Innamorato
by DarkShine07
Summary: <html><head></head>A story of blood and betrayal, love and vengeance. What happens after the final battle? Is it really that easy to forgive? Is it really that easy to love and be loved in return? Love triangle: fHawkexAndersxFenris Will be M-rated Scenes at some point.</html>
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello everyone! This is my newest story, **_**Inamorato**_**, which is Italian for 'lover', specifically a male lover. This story will revolve around my female Hawke, Anders, and Fenris, and will have a plot that begins during the main quest of DA2 and then trickles out into post-game time and my own designs will take over. It will be a love triangle. Just thought I'd put that out there. As for how I played the game, my Hawke romanced Fenris. But in this story, the characters are all going to act slightly different because of my own plot thrown into the mix. Dialogue, when taken out of scenes, will be altered slightly intentionally, so don't feel the need to correct me about that. This first chapter is a bit M rated, just a warning in advance. Overall, this story will be mainly T-rated, and when any M-rated scenes are going to occur, you will be given fair warning so you can avoid it if you don't like it. Anyhow, I hope you all enjoy and decide to stick around. Please feel free to review and let me know what you think! **

The mansion seemed lonely this time of night, Lyra realized, biting her nails anxiously. Her eyes gazed steadily into the flickering firelight kindling with life in the hearth, dancing a gleaming dance as it cast misshapen shadows upon the walls of the darkened room. The flames reflected in her pupils, accentuating the seriousness of her mien; she was feeling rather unsure about what she'd set herself up for. Was this really what she had wanted, all the way back when she had first taken him in, had she ever really yearned for anything like this? She thought she knew the answer, but she dared not admit anything to herself at that moment. She was too vulnerable to be giving second thoughts to _any_ of her reasons for her actions – it was far too late. What had been said was said, what was done could never be undone. All that was left to do was follow through and give things a chance to work out. All she had to do was allow them to…

Echoing footsteps from down the hall. Instantly her head jerked up and she peered down the darkened corridor, her breath catching in anticipation. Would he really have come? Yes, she scolded herself. Gradually, a figure materialized into focus and glided toward her, a pleasant smile etched upon the handsome face that levitated before her. Not for the first time, she appreciated his chocolate colored eyes, the blonde stubble that always graced his chin, though she was sure it was more likely there because the man never had time to get everything done, let alone shave, than its being there was intentional. The smile grew into a slight grin, and then Lyra spoke.

"Anders. You came."

He nodded, but glanced sideways, as if referring to someone else momentarily. "Of course. Justice doesn't approve, though. He thinks I'm more than a bit obsessed…that it's going to be my undoing."

He then stepped forward, refocusing his gaze on Lyra, and continued with a serious tone, "I disagree with him. Which is a rare thing."

Lyra glanced downward shyly, feeling warm in the cheeks. "If you hadn't come, I'd be out there looking for you."

She wasn't entirely sure why she had said that. Only moments before she had been questioning her motive for nearly everything she had done so far since arriving in Kirkwall three years ago. How could she be sure she would have done _anything _about anything? She was confused, and she realized her expression was betraying her.

"Really?" Anders had titled his head ever so slightly, and his eyes were inquisitive. "Are you sure you…want me here?

Lyra hesitated just slightly. She was immediately barraged by the memory of Anders crushing her lips upon hers earlier that day in the clinic. Even if she hadn't really been expecting it, she had to admit she couldn't complain about his kissing abilities. What could be so bad about reliving that moment, maybe seeing just how up to par the rest of his abilities were? Nothing, she told herself. Nothing at all.

"Yes, I'm sure Anders. I…I trust you. Even if you don't think I should."

The look on his face told her she'd succeeded in convincing him, and relief swept through her at the evident gladness that washed over his own expression. It was all she needed as proof that he was serious about this…whatever it was. He stepped ever closer, and she felt the hairs along her arms stand up straight.

"When I was in the Circle, love was just a game, never anything more serious than – well you know. A few good one night stands here and there. It could never be something more. It gave the Templars power; they could use anyone you loved against you. It was a rule many of us set up for our own personal protection, you see. So, forgive me for taking so terribly long to finally…let you know how I feel." At this he sharply turned away, looking quite unsettled. "It would kill me to lose you." He finally stated.

Lyra momentarily felt her chest lurch, and impulsively reached out and laid her hand on Anders's back, feeling the need to ease whatever pain he suddenly seemed to be experiencing. His words fascinated her; no one had ever made any claims like that over her before. She wasn't quite sure what to do with them.

"You're…not going to lose me." She managed.

He slowly turned back toward her, and caught her eyes with his own, which looked like melting chocolate at the moment. Firelight seemed to suit him just as well as daylight, Lyra mused. Anders grasped her hand in his own, and held it to his cheek emotionally.

"No mage I know has ever dared falling in love…but this is the rule I will most cherish breaking." He uttered fervently.

For a slight second, Lyra's mind circulated around that word, 'love', and she thought to herself, _Love…so that's what I'm getting into. _Before she could hazard the concept anymore thought, Anders was kissing her, and she couldn't help but let herself go and throw caution to the wind. Once again, she found herself swept away by the ardor of his touch, his breath, the gentleness with which he regarded her, and in every moment the way he seemed to pause and gaze at her, as if he needed to be reassured she was truly there and was not some specter in a dream.

Lyra wasn't entirely sure what to do. In all honesty, she hadn't really had much experience with this sort of thing. Men, sure, she could play them left or right and she wasn't a novice to a heavy kissing session; but this was entirely different. She'd never let anything go this far before. Beforehand, she wasn't sure she was even ready for this. Now, she couldn't help thinking she just needed to do it. She was young, but she wasn't as young as she used to be. It was time to cross this bridge called love and see where it would take her, especially now that she had someone who seemed to be willing to cross it with her. It was at that revelation that she pulled away, though not too far away. Anders still held her in a tender embrace, his eyes searching for an explanation.

She demurely looked over her shoulder, where she knew her bed waited. When she turned her head back to Anders, he seemed to take the hint. Having lost all abandon, he apparently didn't need any more convincing that she was sure this time – he more than eagerly closed the slight space between them, returning to kissing her while at the same time edging her backwards. She allowed it. Upon reaching the trimming of the sheets, she separated from him yet again and leaned back until she was able to fall enchantingly downward and land upon her soft, downy coverlet. Without any beckoning, Anders lowered and hovered over her, moving his hand to brush a stray strand of her dark hair out of her face. He smiled again, and Lyra had a feeling this would be all that she'd heard it would.

/•|•|•\

_Ow. _

That was the first thought Lyra had a while later. No one had mentioned that part before, but she had a feeling it went with the territory. She mentally chastised herself. She took worse pain that this on a daily basis. Furthermore, she reasoned, it could probably be a lot worse if Anders had been in a 'love beast' mood. He hadn't though. He had been extremely tender and careful, respectful but not so much so that things got awkward. It had felt natural enough, Lyra concluded.

"You should have told me." Anders said quietly.

Startled, Lyra turned her head sideways on the pillow and looked at him. He was a marvel without his robes on, she noted as the fire illuminated his sculpted chest and abs. His hands were tucked behind his head, making him look entirely satisfied and pleased. The only feature out of harmony with that laconic image he presented was his expression. He looked…guilty? Was that it?

"Told you what?"

He titled his head toward her and sighed as if she weren't being serious. He made no response and just continued to stare her down until she felt she had to say something.

"…What?"

He rolled onto his side so that he faced her and stretched out his arm to touch her cheek, "That you'd never done this before."

"What makes you say that?" Lyra forced out, trying to cover up anything that might blow her cover. She didn't realize it was all ready blown.

"Don't do that."

"What are you-"

He sighed and pointed, stopping her from continuing her defense. She followed his index finger and looked down at the sheets. Crimson. Panic was her first reaction, and she felt the blood rush from her face. What had happened?

Anders realized she didn't know anything about how sex was supposed to happen other than the bare essentials of it, and immediately touched her arm in an effort to comfort her.

"Calm down," he said, "It's completely normal. It only happens the first time."

_Oh_. She thought. _So, that's what gave me away then…_She also figured that was why he looked guilty to her. Perhaps he was one of those noble guys who didn't believe they deserved anyone's virginity. To her, it wasn't that huge of an ordeal. Now, she was feeling a little differently about the matter. No wonder people made such a fuss over it if it caused women to go through this sort of mess. The sight unnerved her, and she immediately wanted to move away. She felt dirty somehow. She swung her legs off of the bed and stood; it was when she started walking she noticed the slight soreness. Naturally, she assumed that came with 'the first time' as well. It wasn't all that great, she decided.

Anders followed her and moved in front to halt her forward motion, putting his hands on her arms, grasping tightly, and standing still, like an unbreakable wall. Without warning, she buried her head in his bare chest and felt her eyes water. What was wrong with her? Was this part of it as well? She hoped so, because the overwhelming sense of vulnerability and weakness was not at all like her in the slightest. She was thankful Anders wasn't freaking out, because she certainly was.

"It's okay, Lyra…ssshh." He crooned for a few minutes.

"I'm sorry." She finally managed.

"No, no, don't be. I'm honored, truly, I just…had no idea."

She chuckled softly, and felt better. "Apparently, I had no idea either."

Anders pulled back and gazed at her, a warm, comforting expression peering at her now. When he decided she was stable again, he moved away and walked back around to the side of the bed. Without warning, he gripped the sheet and then yanked it off the bed, leaving it bare save for the comforter. He smiled after tossing the soiled sheet off to the corner of the room.

"There now, come back over here."

A few minutes later, they were back in the bed with the comforter spread over them, Lyra's head resting in the crook of Anders's shoulder contentedly. She was calming down more now, realizing that if everything that happened was normal, then she wasn't about to die or anything. She was just about to doze off when Anders spoke softly.

"Lyra…I love you."

Her eyes were more than willing to stay open now. She looked up at him, surprised.

"I've been holding back from saying that until now. Just a bit ago…you deciding to trust me without even knowing what to expect…it made me realize I do. Wholeheartedly. I could never ask for someone to trust me as much as you do, to put as much faith in me as you have." He smiled appreciatively at her. "But you deserve a normal life…not one with a fugitive like me – a mage ever on the run from Templars. You deserve a future, something I'm not even guaranteed to have for myself, let alone you." Another pause. "I don't want to leave you, though."

Lyra digested his commentary. It wasn't something to just toss aside without a so much as a second thought. She had been alone her entire life as far as trust and love went. It was high time she tried a real relationship, and Andraste, it wasn't like she hadn't just taken the first step. She might as well see this through all the way.

"Then don't."

She felt him shift slightly and move so that he was looking down at her, hope shining in his eyes.

"Do you mean that? Would you really have me here with you for the world to see? They know what I am. They would talk…who knows what would happen."

"I don't care." Lyra heard herself say. "I mean it. I want to really do this."

He seemed mystified, but extremely pleased about it nonetheless. "That's all I've dreamed about for the past three years…but I'm still terrified I'll wake up in the morning and all this will be gone. A passing shadow in the night."

Lyra smiled. "It's not a dream."

She was answered with another kiss, and even though she wasn't entirely sure she was ready for it, she wanted to get past the previous disappoint her 'first time' has granted her and experience what she had heard about. She returned the kiss deeply, and felt hormones surging through her veins yet again.

She still wasn't entirely clear about what her expectations in the long run were, but for the time being, she was satisfied with this new thing that she'd never experienced before. 'Love', it was called. She herself had not said that word just yet, she realized fleetingly, but the thought was drowned out of consciousness a few kisses later.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Finally, a second chapter. I didn't mean to leave every one hanging so long, but I'm graduating this Friday and it's been rather busy. I actually have practice to attend in the morning, but alas, we do not choose when the muse visits us. It so happens the muse bird has landed on my windowsill tonight, and so I am driven to write. I only received one review for chapter one, but I got several favorites and alerts, so I know a few people like this story. PLEASE review! I love feedback, and I need to know if this story is worth continuing…**

**/-/-/-/-/**

The next morning was awkward, or at least it was to Lyra. Waking up with someone next to her was a bit unnerving, to say the least. Anders looked peaceful, serene in his morning doze, almost as if Justice was just some figment of the imagination and was not lingering silently under the surface of tranquility. Lyra quietly studied him a few moments, asking herself questions like, _Why did I do that? Was it the right thing to do? What have I gotten myself into…?_ She dressed and left her house before Anders woke, managing to steal a few precious moments for herself.

Walking through High Town, she noted that she was indeed still sore, but gladly determined that it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been at first. In fact, she thought she'd feel fine by late afternoon, and as long as she rested a couple of nights. That led her to wonder what would happen next. Was Anders going to expect her to let him in every night; was he going to want to live with her now? The possibilities were swarming through her mind, buzzing like a ceaseless hum meant to gradually drive a victim mad. She told herself to worry about that later – there was no way she could predict what Anders would anticipate next.

Her words from the previous night came drifting back. She had told him she wanted to have a relationship. She frowned as her feet led her towards Low Town, people drifting around her like shadows unnoticed by light. It had seemed like what she wanted at the moment, caught up in the romanticism of it all, but she realized things would change if that was indeed what happened. Her party members would see her differently; they would see Anders differently. He would be someone thugs and bandits could use against her, a weakness she wouldn't be able to cover up. Was it really worth all of the trouble? She just couldn't tell…she needed a drink.

Coincidentally, Lyra looked up and found herself standing just outside The Hanged Man pub. She felt the slightest smirk ghost her lips and then went inside. The smell of alcohol washed over her and overwhelmed her nostrils with its sharp, hoppy aroma, and the lingering scent of sweat wafted through the stale air. Looking around, Lyra spied varied men, some of higher rank and some poor and beggarly, but all joined together in the camaraderie provided by the pub. Here, men became equals and shared the drink like brothers. It wasn't the prettiest joint, but it hardly mattered. Lyra enjoyed the unperturbed yet alert atmosphere the pub always presented to her. She could relax while at the same time look out for a potential mission in order to earn a few coins for completing.

"Hawke, let me buy you a drink!" Came a swarthy voice.

Turning and looking down, Lyra saw Varric leaning up against a wall, perched laconically in a chair. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing his trademark chest hair, and his sarcastic smile graced his face. Smiling, Lyra ambled over to his table and took a seat.

"Good morning, my dear dwarven friend."

A man carrying two tankards shuffled over and placed them before the two customers before moving on to serve another table.

"Well, Hawke, you've been here four years now. How does it feel to finally be rising up in the world?" Varric asked after taking a swig.

"Oh, you know…glorious as predicted." Lyra grinned and sipped a little of the ale.

"Shocker. Personally, I find it quite beneficial to be tied to your story right about now. You'd be surprised at how influencing your acquaintance is over the ladies."

"Oh, really now? Do you charm them with your stories of our adventures and conquests?"

"Indeed, I do." He chuckled and set his tankard down with a clang, looking satisfied.

Lyra looked away, observing the crowd coming and going. Varric tilted his head slightly, studying her carefully.

"You…seem different."

"What?" Lyra sharply turned back to him, alerted and nervous.

"Whoa, jumpy are you Hawke? Yes, something is different…"

"I…" She felt her cheeks reddening, not sure how to react. "I don't know what you mean…"

Varric scratched his chin with a finger, nodding slowly. "Hawke, it's about time. Who was he?"

_Drat. _Lyra bit her tongue. How the hell did Varric figure that out so easily – was it that obvious? She now couldn't help but wonder if every one in the room could see a neon sign flashing above her head celebrating her 'achievement.' She fumbled for words, and felt more than a little like an idiot in doing so.

"Oh, you don't have to tell me then; but you know that means I can just make him up." Varric smirked.

Lyra had just opened her mouth to say it was none of his business when Varric's eyes jumped away and she lost his attention.

"Fenris! Look who's out and about today."

Lyra turned halfway in her chair and looked. Fenris, lank and lean, was indeed strolling towards their table, his eyes glittering as he approached. Lyra immediately felt compelled to smile in greeting, and not just because he was saving her from having to indulge Varric's incessant curiosity. The elf dipped his head slightly in response, and then seated himself next to her, across from Varric. Silently, Lyra prayed Varric wouldn't continue his pursuit of their current conversation. She decided to prevent him the chance to do so altogether, and addressed Fenris herself.

"You don't usually venture out of the mansion. What brings you here?"

Across the table, Lyra saw Varric smile in a sardonic way, letting her know he knew exactly what she was doing by not allowing him start the conversation. Fenris didn't seem to notice, or pretended not to if he did, and putting an elbow on the table, half turned to face Lyra.

"I have a…favor to ask of you Hawke."

"This should be good. Does it involve secret lovers?" Varric sounded.

Lyra shot a glare at him, which Fenris followed but did not comment on. Looking back at the elf, she replied, "I'd be happy to assist."

Fenris half-smiled, "Good." But the smile faded as quickly as it had appeared before he continued. "I've heard word that there are slavers up around Sundermount, hiding out. I…don't know for sure, but it is definitely something I would prefer to look into rather than merely brush off as unlikely."

"Slavers? Would someone you know be among them?" Lyra felt concerned at once. She had never liked hearing about Fenris's tragic past. She had no idea what he had gone through, and she could only imagine. She felt that if she could do anything to ease whatever burden it was he seemed to carry about on his shoulders wherever he went, it would be worth doing. He must have sensed something of this notion in her, because his eyes lightened a couple of shades at her sincere interest in the matter.

"It's possible. I can't be sure."

Lyra nodded, and glanced down in thought for a moment. When she looked back up, both Varric and Fenris were trained on her, waiting. At that moment, she felt the pressure of leadership weighing upon her. Whatever she decided would affect each and every one of her friends. She had to do what she personally felt was right though, and this was something that spoke to her.

"I think it's worth checking into. I don't want slavers stealing elves from the Dalish or the Alienage."

Varric nodded ever so slightly, letting her know he approved, and the relief in Fenris's eyes was so obvious it seemed tangible in the air. The half-smile returned to him, and Lyra felt like that in itself signified she was doing the right thing.

"Thank you, Hawke."

/-/-/-/-/

A few hours later on in the day, Lyra led Varric, Anders, and Fenris up the slope of Sundermount, taking out a couple of groups of thugs along the way. As they headed up the sandy path, Lyra felt he hair on the back of her neck rise ever so slightly. Something was astir, she realized, and her hand instinctively reached down for the pommel of her blade. Beside her, the others noticed and tensed.

"Stop!" Came an imperial voice from overhead.

Just like that, a man materialized atop the cliff face and along with him a few dozen soldiers revealed themselves around the party. They'd walked right into a trap.

"Hunters…" Fenris muttered, and Lyra gathered that these were men who would gladly escort the elf back to the holding pens.

"You are in possession of stolen property; back away from the slave and you'll be spared." The guard announced, his voice laced with menace.

Anger coursed through Lyra's veins, and though she couldn't explain why, she knew she couldn't bear to hear anyone call Fenris a slave again. She jolted forward as her party members drew their blades, and without warning yelled upwards at the man.

"Fenris is no one's slave!"

The guard's men immediately swarmed toward the four, and battle ensued. It was quick and simple with Lyra and Fenris dealing most of the heavy damage while Anders and Varric put some distance between themselves and the fray to provide ranged attacks. It was a strategy the group had long since mastered, and it served them well yet again. The last soldier fell, and as Lyra was holstering her sword, she saw Fenris turn and stride meaningfully toward a younger man writhing across the ground. She followed him, waiting.

Fenris gripped the man's robe collar tightly and demanded lowly, "Where is he?"

Lyra assumed he meant Danarius, and then wondered if it was possible the elf's old master would actually happen to come to Kirkwall. It seemed too fortunate to be likely. Fenris wanted answers, though, that much was obvious. Lyra hadn't quite ever seen an expression so determined and upset before.

"D-don't kill me!" Was the reply he got.

"Tell me!" Fenris roared, not willing to play nice. Lyra couldn't blame him, really.

"I don't know…" The man uttered weakly. "I swear. Hadriana brought us here; she's at the holding pens. I can show you the way…"

"No need." Fenris muttered, and then his hands lowered and a crack sounded; the next instant, the man was dead.

Lyra didn't say anything. She waited as Fenris slowly rose and turned back to face her. His eyes were cast downward, no doubt lost in troubled memories of the past. For a moment, Lyra wondered if there was some way she might ease his pain, some way to help him move on. Fenris looked up.

"Hadriana."

Lyra nodded subtly.

"She was Danarius's apprentice, Hawke. Her greatest pleasure was tormenting me. I was a fool to think I was free – they'll never let me be. If she's here, it's at Danarius's bidding. I should have known they wouldn't let my escape go."

Lyra blinked. "We can go after them, Fenris."

He nodded, a silent thanks implied in his eyes.

The holding pen they entered was dark and gloomy, full of slavers and spiders. It wasn't pleasant, especially not with Fenris's mood ever present as they traversed the maze-like tunnels of the pen. Lyra didn't hold it against him though; she knew he had a right to be more than upset. She hardly cared to imagine how well she'd be holding up if their positions were reversed. As they moved through the pens, they rescued a little girl, an elf, whom Lyra sacrificed a few coin to so that she might find a place in the Alienage. After that, they knew they were close to the chamber where the apprentice was holed up with her personal band of guards. The air was heavy with tension, both unseen and felt, as they pressed on. Lyra wasn't sure what to expect, but the hard-set line on Fenris's face told her it wouldn't be the easiest battle they'd undergone.

After rounding a corner, the enemies stood waiting for them, like a fox in a hole that hears the dogs digging furiously at the opening of its den. The men rushed them, and the apprentice kept herself well protected while she let them do all the difficult, bloody work. Eventually, Lyra managed to edge around the brunt of the soldiers and surged toward the woman, who quite frankly looked sallow and unwell. Before long, the others shifted their attacks to focus on the apprentice as well, realizing that as a mage, she was maintaining the troops' health. Once they eliminated her, the battle would be over; otherwise it would drag on for ages.

She was vulnerable when her fortified barrier wore off every so often. It didn't take long to wear her down, and then, without warning, she stumbled down and fell to her side. The soldiers were picked off and finally, no more came. The battle was over. Lyra watched as Fenris walked to stand in front of the woman. She felt her own personal hatred flare up. It was odd, to feel so strongly for someone else's cause. She thought to herself suddenly that she didn't even feel this intensely about the mages and Templars. What did that say about Anders? She glanced at him and saw him putting his staff away, closer to Varric than her or Fenris. Confusion built up, but before she could focus on it, her attention was called away. Fenris has readied himself to swing his blade down upon the woman, when she had halted him.

"Stop, you don't want me dead!" Hadriana claimed desperately.

Fenris hesitated, but he didn't seem phased. "There is only one person I want dead _more_."

"I have information, and I will trade it in return for my life."

_Her life?_ Lyra wasn't sure what was worth that. As far as she was concerned, this woman deserved to die from what Fenris had said of her. He apparently was thinking along the same lines.

"The location of Danarius? What good will that do me? I'd rather he lose his pet pupil." He prepared to strike once again.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he heard next, and Lyra was more than a bit stunned herself.

"You have a sister; she is alive!" Hadriana frantically stated.

Fenris stood still like a statue, locked in position. His expression looked absolutely shattered. Lyra felt her own jaw drop slightly, and she peered between the two slowly. What could this mean to the elf? In his daze, Hadriana rose and took advantage of catching him off guard.

"You wish to reclaim your life, your memories, your past? Let me live and I'll tell you where she is."

Fenris still looked at a loss for words, utterly confused. Lyra couldn't stand seeing him look that way. She approached and stopped beside him. He turned his head to gaze at her, question gleaming in his eyes. She searched him for a moment trying to decide if she should step in, but in the end she knew this was his battle.

"It's up to you, Fenris…this is your call."

He stared a moment longer at her, and she knew she had just earned some respect from him. He nodded and then stepped over to Hadriana.

"So…I have your word? I tell you where she is and you let me live?"

"Yes…my word."

"Her name is Varania. She is in Qurinus serving a magister by the name of Ahriman."

"A servant…so she is not a slave."

"No, she's not a slave…" Hadriana seemed to be able to tell how important that fact was to the elf, and emphasized it.

"I believe you." Fenris announced.

But as he said the words, Lyra saw the tattoos tracing his arms begin to glow faintly, and by the time he'd finished his statement, the glow was a fierce blue. She could almost hear the lyrium burning through his flesh, feel the passion it wielded to the touch. She couldn't help feeling like the woman deserved this as the surprise and understanding registered on Hadriana's face. Before she could dodge, Fenris buried his hand within her chest, and the lyrium did the rest. She slumped over and lay dead instantly.

Fenris was far from content with her death though, Lyra saw. He looked more upset than ever, in fact, and it surprised her to find it frightened her. He turned and started past her.

"We're done here."

Looking at the body a second longer, she let her gaze turn back to Fenris. She couldn't resist. "Are you all right? Do you…want to talk about it?"

As the elf rounded sharply, Lyra caught a scolding glance from Anders. Fenris did not look pleased. Perhaps, she should have kept quiet after all, she feared.

"No! I don't want to talk about it!" Fenris moved closer until his face was just inches away from hers, and she had to fight the impulse to back away. Yes, she thought, he was indeed terrifying to behold in this temper. "This could be a trap! Danarius could have sent her here to tell me about this…'sister.'" He looked away a few moments, but didn't back away. "And even if he didn't, trying to find her would be suicide. Danarius has to know about her, and he has to know Hadriana knew as well." His eyes hardened and he cast his gaze downward. "But all that matters is that I finally got to crush this bitch's heart. May she rot and all the other mages with her."

"And here I thought you were unreasonable…" Anders muttered from the other side of the room, just a bit sarcastically. Lyra didn't have the heart to tell him he wasn't helping the matter at all.

"This doesn't mean we shouldn't still look for your sister…" Lyra offered.

"What else should it mean? Even if I find my sister, who knows what the magisters have done to her? What has magic touched that it hasn't spoiled?"

For half a second, Lyra caught her eyes darting toward Anders. So far, he was the only thing she could think of. But Fenris had a point, and it made her wonder if maybe even Anders had a time limit somewhere on him. It wasn't a pleasant thought, and she immediately shoved it aside.

"I…need to go."

Before Lyra could muster a reply, Fenris had turned and strode away. She felt slightly stunned, having never had such anger turned upon her before, but at the same time, she knew he was only distressed with the circumstances. She knew she herself had no idea what to do next other than wait for more clues or a sign. That had to be maddening for someone who had all ready had to wait so long…Cautiously, she hazarded a glance at Anders and Varric. They watched Fenris move off, looking put out and unnerved. Lyra sighed and walked toward them. She wanted out of this pen as soon as possible.

/-/-/-/-/

Night fell and Lyra decided to stop by the clinic on her way home. Heading in, she saw Anders at work, bent over someone and performing a healing. Watching, she pondered the wonder of magic. At this particular moment, it was a lifesaver, remedying wounds that otherwise would be fatal. She had seen its destruction as well though, and had been witness to a mage who let demons abuse magic's power. She saw its dangers, but she knew it had a couple of advantages as well. Shrugging it off, she let her thoughts dwindle on the hope that Anders wouldn't fall prey to that same temptation.

Once he was finished, he turned and saw her, eliciting a smile despite how weary he appeared. Lyra walked further in and stopped before him.

"Another happy client?" Lyra asked.

"Yes, and a safe one at that."

Lyra smiled. "Thank you for helping us out today…back on Sundermount."

"It wasn't my first choice for what to do today, but I am willing to help you out anytime."

Lyra picked up that the meaning behind the words was that he only did it because she asked him to. She couldn't help but think something about that was wrong, but she tried not to let it bother her too much. Anders was helping, and that was more than she could say for most people. She contented herself with that and brushed off her worry.

Just then, he wrapped her in an embrace, and she felt his arms enclose around her waist, pulling her in to his chest. She rested her head and sighed deeply. She relaxed and felt weariness drop over her. She hadn't realized how tired she was until that moment.

"How are you?" Anders asked softly.

"Hmm?" She looked up just in time to feel his warm breath sweep across her face, and smiled.

He brushed a finger over her cheek, smiling softly. "You okay?"

She nodded.

After a minute, he leaned down and closed the space between their lips, delicately kissing her the way lovers do after being assured they can stay together without obstacles to stand in their way. There was no desperation or haste, like he thought she was a dream as he had mentioned before. Or perhaps, they were both just exhausted from the battles of the day. Nevertheless, the kiss was nice, and Lyra did feel better when he finally pulled back. She was waiting for him to ask what she was doing that night, wondering how she might tell him she needed a night of rest more than one of love without putting him off too badly, when he chuckled.

"You taking a rain check? I would understand if you were."

She bit her lip and looked down, trying not to smile.

He kissed her forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lyra."

She nodded and then left his arms to head back out into Dark Town.

A little while later, she made it back to her estate safely. She was relieved for the day to be winding down; she was more than ready for a good night's sleep. Letting herself in with a quiet opening and shutting of the front door, she turned and had to stifle a slight gasp. Fenris was sitting on one of the benches built into the wall, apparently having been waiting for her. After he had disappeared earlier, she hadn't expected to see him again for a few days. Something inside her was happy he was there, but she couldn't explain to herself why.

He stood. "I've been thinking about what happened with Hadriana…" He glanced down, and Lyra wondered where he was going with his train of thought. "I took out my anger on you, undeservedly so. I…was not myself. I'm sorry."

Lyra felt relieved. He did seem to be back to his usual self, and she felt much more calm around him without his temper flaring. "There's no need to apologize."

"You are generous…" Fenris seemed to almost smile, but then he turned away and continued on a different line. "When I was still a slave, Hadriana was a torment. She would ridicule me, deny my meals, hound my sleep. Because of her status I was powerless to respond, and she knew it." He looked back at her. "The thought of her slipping out my grasp now…I couldn't let her go. I wanted to, but I couldn't."

"What do you mean?" Lyra asked, wondering.

Fenris shook his head, troubled. "This hate….I thought I'd gotten away from it. But it dogs me no matter where I go. To feel it again, to know it was they who planted it inside of me…it was too much to bear."

Lyra gazed at him, trying to understand. Their eyes stayed locked for several minutes, until Lyra blinked and then Fenris suddenly looked away.

"But I didn't come here to burden you further." He was starting to leave.

Lyra felt the words leave her mouth before the thought had fully formed, "We're friends, Fenris."

"I'm not certain I know what that is." He replied quietly, and let himself out.

Lyra stared after him, and realized she didn't quite know either.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here's a third chapter for anyone and everyone who actually reads this story! Again, apologies for the wait, but for some reason it just takes me a while to get inspired enough to take on a whole new chapter. This chapter makes me sad, but the end makes me happy. Also, I'd like to let you all know that I am basically the only one who chose the dialogue option for Fenris at the end and that it was impossible to find his replies. There are NO youtube videos on it. And if there are…please link me to one. Anyhow, obviously dialogue will be changed to my preference in most areas and just keep in mind it is intentional. Please remember to review if you like what you read. :]**

**/-/-/-/-/**

Two months rolled quickly by, and in their wake came the chills of an oncoming winter in Kirkwall. Winter could be icy and deadly in more northern parts of the world, but Lyra wasn't concerned at all about the slightly more frigid winds it boded for Kirkwall. The worst that might happen would be a few dustings of snow; nothing compared the raging blizzards rumored to wreak havoc in the north, leaving behind nothing but a trail a tragedy in their stead. In the meantime, Lyra switched over to her warmer wardrobe and began wearing items that snuggly hugged her legs and arms. Her outfits were comfortable, but not loose so that they would interfere with any quick action she might be forced to take at any given moment walking the streets. She was prepared for anything, as always.

"Lyra! Will you stop throwing my socks into the fireplace!"

Everything but Anders's pesky habits, it seemed.

"If you'd stop leaving dirty socks on my floor, then maybe you wouldn't find them in the fireplace." She replied, slightly irritated.

In two months' passing, more than just the weather had changed. Anders had indeed proposed moving in with her not long after the ordeal with Hadriana. Lyra had been hesitant to agree at first, but Anders had eventually convinced her by saying she had claimed to want a relationship and that most relationships between adults of their age usually occurred in only one house. She saw the logic behind it – they were both responsible adults so, logically, there should be no reason why they shouldn't live together as long as they were in a mature relationship. Her hesitancy, she decided, just stemmed off of her inexperience of how things worked. Anders had been good to her thus far, so she caved when he'd reminded her to decide for the tenth time.

She had to admit, at first it was strange. Half of her privacy instantly vanished; all of sudden Anders had his own belongings mingled with hers, and sometimes he'd move her things and she'd be at a loss for how to find them again. Him leaving his socks around was just one thing, though a very annoying thing at that. At night, the mood could swing two ways with him: either he was all hands and adoration, or Justice was feeling abused and made Anders in turn more prickly and closed-off. It got tiring, having to figure out what would happen every single time she got into bed. She'd mentally prepare herself to be either embraced or ignored. There never seemed to be an in between, though. Either Anders was Anders, or he was Justice. Whenever Justice wasn't taking up all his attention, he was so happy to be able to be himself that he never wanted to simply talk and bond. He wanted to enjoy having full control over all of him. All of him.

Things were different among the party now as well, which she had feared would be the case if things got really serious with Anders. It was kind of difficult to hide that he was living in the Hawke Estate as he came and went from there every morning and evening. Varric of course got the biggest kick out of it possible, cracking jokes left and right about Anders wooing Lyra like 'Prince Charming with a dark side'. It was embarrassing to say the least. What Lyra disliked most of all, though, was the way it made Fenris look at Anders. Maybe she was the only one to notice it, but he seemed to always be watching him as if expecting something terrible to happen. She didn't know why the two had gotten off so badly in the first place, though it was understandable, but she wished they would at least try to act like they liked each other.

Lyra never thought to wonder if that was normal behavior. She accepted it in stride and tried to focus on Kirkwall most of the time. She couldn't complain that it was nice to be able to go home to a hug after a long day's work – granted that it was one of Anders's good days. When he seemed to be in a foul mood, she'd simply say she was going to the Hanged Man to relax, and there she'd have Varric to entertain her with more nonsensical stories of his making. Anders wouldn't notice her absence anyhow if Justice was controlling him that night.

Moving to the balcony and peering over the banister, Lyra spied Anders glaring into the flames of the fireplace, his hand on his chin in a contemplation pose. She leaned on her elbows and smirked.

"Must have accidentally fluttered into the fire when I threw it over the rails."

Anders turned half way and gazed up at her. "Very funny."

"You're a mage…magically fix it." Lyra suggested, tilting her head.

Anders now crossed his arms, not looking amused in the slightest. "Would that I could."

Lyra shrugged and started down the stairs. She was ready to go out and get back to work on her current mission in Kirkwall. Anders turned and headed her off at the doorway, putting an arm up to block her path. She considered blundering through the arm and ignoring him before she stopped, took a deep breath, and then slowly looked at him. He seemed rather grim.

"What if when you came home you found something of yours in the fireplace?"

"Come on, Anders. You're not going to burn any of my things." Lyra was irritated now.

"Why shouldn't I? You burned my things. I can burn your things. An eye for an eye – it's only fair." Justice was the one talking now.

Though Lyra found trying to talk sense to Justice never worked, she couldn't stop herself from attempting to do so time and time again. "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. Someone's got to be the bigger man eventually."

"Are you suggesting _I_ be the bigger man? Because honestly, that's not entirely fair considering you're a woman." Justice replied.

Ignoring the insult, Lyra simply stated, "I did ask you a million times to stop leaving your dirty socks all over the floor. Is it not fair that I finally did something about it since you wouldn't?"

Justice paused.

"I'll see you later." Lyra announced before he could get another word in edgewise.

She moved past him before he could respond and let herself out, leaving him staring after her looking more perturbed than ever. She didn't care though – she could barely stand being around him when Justice was on one his 'fairness streaks' as she called them. Why he was so concerned about socks was a mystery to her anyways.

The shrill sunlight shed light on her as she moved through Hightown, alleviating her of any annoyance she had been feeling. She tried to turn her thoughts onto what she'd been working on lately. The night before, she'd managed to find Gascard DuPuis in his mansion and had cornered him in one room with a narrow escape route. She'd been convinced he was the notorious 'White Lily Murderer', but the circumstances seemed to beg to differ. She'd let him go. Now she was just on her way to tell Emeric what happened – time to let him know they'd lost their last lead. Then, she'd go on with her day and see what other trouble she could stir up.

Heading into The Gallows, Lyra hid a frown at not seeing Emeric waiting for her. Instead, in his place stood a female Templar with cropped hair who appeared to be posted on the lookout for her arrival. Lyra headed over, trying to cover up her slight confusion.

"You're Lyra Hawke, right?" The Templar asked.

"Yes, that's me…"

"I'm Moira. Emeric left not long ago. He said you'd arranged to meet him tonight."

Lyra bit her tongue. "Are…are you sure?"

Moira nodded, "Yes, that's what he said."

"But that…that wasn't me. I never sent a message or anything."

"You didn't? That's strange…"

"Not a good sign." Came a third voice. Lyra peered over her shoulder and saw Varric approaching. How he always managed to find her, she'd never know. She gave him sarcastic look, which he returned with an equally sardonic look of his own.

Moira glanced between them but shrugged dubiously. "I don't know. Emeric has been acting strangely for months; it's probably just a misunderstanding."

Varric glanced at Lyra and a silent agreement passed between them. Emeric wasn't safe. Moira relayed the message that Emeric had received and revealed that he was expecting to find Lyra waiting for him in Lowtown that evening. Without any hesitancy, Lyra and Varric headed off to rescue the poor guy.

/-/-/-/-/

As predicted, Emeric had been ambushed waiting on her to show up. Taking out the mage and his demons wasn't particularly difficult, but what was tough to bear was the discovery that their foes had succeeded in their goal. Lyra and Varric were too late when they arrived. Emeric was all ready slumped over, dead and long gone. Just as the last demon fell, Moira appeared, panting and nervous. Her eyes darted over the scene of corpses and she realized what had happened without explanation.

"Some mage sent those things here to kill him…Oh, Maker. The murders. Emeric was right – he was getting too close to finding out who the killer was. He suspected a man named Gascard DuPuis; is this his doing?" Moira looked devastated.

A bit shaken up herself, Lyra replied, "I don't think so…"

Not sure what else to do, they wrapped the conversation up and then Lyra headed home. Varric parted ways with her to return to the Hanged Man where his private room was, and Lyra found her way back to her estate without incident. She was still feeling bad about failing to save Emeric when she opened the front door and heard Gamlen's voice. Furrowing her brows, she hurried further in to see her uncle getting nowhere fast with the two dwarves who insisted upon serving her in her house.

"No, I said 'Leandra'. Where's Leandra?"

Before Sandal could say 'enchantment' for the billionth time, Lyra interrupted. "Gamlen, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, there you are. I'm looking for your mother. She's here isn't she? Is she not feeling well?"

"What's wrong?" Lyra asked, confused for the second time that day.

"She didn't make it to our weekly visit, so I'm assuming she's ill. She _is _here right?"

"No, actually, we haven't seen her all day." Bodahn commented.

Gamlen looked concerned. "Where could she be?"

"Perhaps, with her suitor?"

"Suitor? Leandra never mentioned a suitor…"

Lyra and Gamlen both looked confused now. Lyra couldn't recall having heard about this suitor either, which she found a bit odd. Her mother had mentioned liking being able to still feel available and attractive to the men of Kirkwall once, but she hadn't said she'd found anyone in particular who enjoyed her.

"Well, those lilies arrived for her this morning." Bodahn concluded.

Lyra glanced over at the table and saw a vase of white lilies placed upon it. She thought they looked quite pretty for a moment, then something clicked inside her mind. She frowned. White lilies…that was a bit too familiar.

"I know something about those white lilies."

"Well, spit it out!" Gamlen ordered.

"There's a killer who sends his victim white lilies before he takes them. He's murdered several women here all ready. If he's the one who sent Mother those lilies…then…" Lyra felt her heart clutch at that thought.

"No, no…she must have just taken a different path to my house and missed me…I'm going back to Lowtown to wait for her." Gamlen suggested, immediately turning away.

"I'll go with you, Uncle. It doesn't hurt to be optimistic, but…"

"Leandra's fine."

Lyra wanted to agree, but she knew things weren't looking so good at the moment. Gamlen sighed and then she followed him out the door. On the way, Anders, Fenris, and Varric joined the group. Lyra had had a feeling that she'd be needing their help and had convinced Gamlen to let her ask them all to join them. Anders had come from the clinic, Fenris from Danarius's mansion, and Varric they picked up at the Hanged Man in Lowtown. After they were all set, Gamlen and Lyra found a young boy who appeared to be a beggar out on the streets and promptly decided to ask him for information. Street rat that he was, he refused to help unless Lyra either intimidated him or paid up. She spared a few coin and the boy revealed that he had indeed seen a mage and a woman go by, pointing them in the right direction.

Not too far away, Lyra found the first puddle of a bloody trail. Fear gripped her as she realized it could only be her mother's life spilled in front of her. It was at this point that Gamlen bailed, frightened too much to continue with them. Lyra didn't really want him getting in danger's way, so she didn't push for him to come along. She wasn't looking forward to what she was about to discover anyhow. Grimly, she turned back and followed the trail as far as it would take her, her mood growing darker upon each bloody splotch she saw.

The trail led down into one of the many dirty tunnels running underneath Lowtown and Darktown, and not very far into the tunnel, Lyra found another woman's body, cinching her conclusion that she would most likely only find her mother in one condition; the same condition as this woman. It was the very same lady whom she'd found with DuPuis, Alessa. She had figured the woman was just confused, as DuPuis suggested she was. How she ended up here and dead, Lyra didn't care to know. She just wanted to find her mother before it was too late.

The tunnel was full of demons, probably all summoned by the killer as sentinels. Dispatching them was more of an annoyance than a struggle, but it did slow them down. Lyra was sick of all the magic at work here. She just needed to reach her mother before it was too late. Finding her locket wasn't a good sign either. Shrugging it off, Lyra hastened onward. Her party followed behind her, probably all of them aware of what the final outcome of this search would be, and keeping silent because of it. She hated knowing that was what was going through every one's mind at the same time. It was driving her insane. Her mother would be fine, she kept telling herself, we're all just being extremely pessimistic…

They came upon a chamber. Of course, demons called her attention away at first, but once they were dead, Lyra noticed that it looked like a living room type of set up. There were bookshelves, a table and chairs, a fireplace, and hanging above it on the wall was a giant portrait of a woman who looked hauntingly familiar.

"What is this place?" Lyra muttered. "The woman in the painting…she almost looks like Mother…"

"A shrine dedicated to a wife…a sister, perhaps?" Anders offered.

Lyra wasn't sure, but the image was so eerily similar to her mother that she could hardly bear looking at it. Whatever the mage was doing with her, she had to stop it. She had to keep moving.

"I need to find her." She said lowly, and turned away.

The next room was where she found all the answers. The mage was a tall man with gray hair, and cold, pale eyes of nearly the shame shade. He was standing guard beside a chair in front of another fireplace, and in the chair was a figure whom wasn't facing her. Lyra wanted to rush over and check immediately, but her senses prevented her. This guy was dangerous and one wrong move would eliminate any possibility for her to save her mother. The mage turned to face her, looking quite content and at home, not at all concerned by the party's arrival. It angered Lyra, and somewhat unnerved her.

"Ah, Hawke. I was wondering when you'd show up. Leandra said you'd come for her." His voice was nasally and grinding; it rasped unpleasantly.

Trying to maintain composure, Lyra replied, "Mother always did know me best."

"Yes…and she spoke so fondly of you. What a lovely, gentle woman." He smiled darkly and then stepped away from the chair, moving closer to Lyra. She eyed his staff warily. "You will never understand my purpose. Your mother was chosen because she was special; and now she is part of something even greater."

Lyra shook her head. "You're crazy – I get that. I just want to know where my mother is."

The mage glanced over his shoulder in the chair's direction. Lyra followed his gaze. "I have done the impossible. I have touched the face of the Maker and lived."

Lyra shook her head subtly, trying to stay calm.

The mage turned back around and walked toward the chair again. "Do you know what the strongest force in the universe is?" He waited a moment. Lyra narrowed her eyes. "Love. I pieced her together from memory. I found her eyes, her skin, her delicate fingers…and at last, her face." His hand went out to the figure's chin and then he titled her head up. "Her beautiful face." The figure rose and Lyra could see it was a woman wearing a white wedding gown and a veil. She was oh so familiar. "I've searched far and wide to find you again, beloved, and no force on earth will ever part us again." The mage finished.

Lyra took a step back and her eyes widened as the figure slowly turned around. She was her mother – but not. It was her mother's face and hair, but around her neck ugly stitches were apparent. And while it was her mother's face, she looked haggard and weary, zombie-like in the way she moved. It was the most frightening thing Lyra had ever beheld. She didn't have time to rush forward before demons materialized all around her and her party. She fought in a rage, thinking the whole time that the mage was going to pay. He was going to do more than that – she was going to kill him. He'd mutilated her mother for his own crazy scheme of rebuilding his wife with different parts of different women. It was vile and disgusting, but more than that, it infuriated her. He'd gone beyond too far.

The demons surrounding the mage were defeated and then it was just her and him. Lyra waited until his protective shield wore off; he couldn't hold it up very long and continue to summon new demons all at once. She hacked away at him, anger blinding her precision, until he dropped dead like the rest of his minions. She panted, and reached down to pull her sword out of his chest cavity. She was so engrossed she jerked away when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Turning around flightily, she saw that it was only her mother, what was left of her. She had been stumbling over to her the entire time, slowly and surely, and now she was crumbling downward. Lyra lunged forward and caught her just in time, and then sat to cradle her mother's head in her lap. She could all ready feel wetness springing to her eyes. "Mother…" She uttered softly, not able to control her voice.

She heard footsteps behind her, but didn't turn. She couldn't take her eyes off of her mother's ashen face.

"There's nothing I can do…" It was Anders. "His magic was keeping her alive."

Lyra blinked slowly, unable to comprehend.

"I knew you would come…" Her mother breathed out.

Lyra tried to smile through her tears, "You know me…I always save the day."

"Shhh. Don't fret, darling."

Lyra glanced away, closing her eyes to try and get a hold of herself.

"That man would have kept me trapped in here…but now I'm free." Her mother stated quietly. "I get to see Carver again, and your father….but you'll be here alone."

Lyra shook her head. "I should have watched over you more closely…I should have…"

"My little girl has become so strong. I love you. You've always made me so proud."

Looking down into her mother's gleaming eyes, discolored now, Lyra felt her throat swell up. This couldn't be how it ended; this couldn't be the way she said goodbye. She watched helplessly as her mother's head slowly fell back though, and knew it was over. She had been too late, and her mother had paid for it. She had failed her. Silently, she ran her hand over her mother's eyes and shut them. Her mother would never look back at her again.

After a few long moments, Lyra managed to stand up. In a daze, she tried to walk away, completely blind to her friends standing just to the side. Her legs felt wobbly, and her vision wasn't exactly clear. She swayed and caught herself by falling against the cold, stony wall to her side. She couldn't stop the tears now. She heard the footsteps, the rush, felt the disturbed air wrap around her as approached, and saw him, but did nothing. Anders wrapped her in a tight embrace, holding her close. Her face was buried in his shoulder, her hands snuggled up against her chest in a defensive position as he held her. She was completely vulnerable.

When she opened her eyes, she blinked and peered across the room. Varric and Fenris were standing just across from them, looking concerned and troubled. Fenris turned and saw her, locked eyes with her. She wasn't sure what she felt, but for a second she was sure she wanted for him to be the one holding her. He made a slight move toward her, but something stopped him, she saw. In a flash, he turned and walked away. She followed him with her eyes, and didn't notice Varric peer between the two of them, suspicious but keen as ever.

She blinked again, managing to find her composure once more. Anders seemed to realize she was better, and pulled away to gaze at her softly. She couldn't meet his eyes; she glanced downward, feeling alone despite his nearness.

"I know nothing I say will change it, but I'm sorry." He offered. "You were lucky to have her as long as you did…when the pain fades, that's what will matter."

"I didn't try hard enough to save her…" Was all Lyra could manage. It was all she could think.

"She wouldn't want you to blame yourself, Lyra." He quietly contradicted her.

"You don't know my mother." Lyra found herself saying.

"No…and I'm sorry I never will." Anders replied. He stroked her cheek and forced her to look at him. "But I'm here for you…whatever you need."

Lyra nodded and he pulled her close again. She wasn't sure what to think now. Her mother was dead; she was positive it was her fault and that nothing would ever change that. She also knew she really just needed to be alone. She needed to go to her room and not worry about anything for a few days. She needed time…without warning, she pulled away from Anders and hurried away, plunging alone into the darkness of the tunnel.

/-/-/-/-/

Her room was dark even with candles lit this late at night. The window was open, letting in a cool breeze that ruffled the curtains as it fluttered to and fro and caressed her cheek. It made the trails her tears left in their wake cold, and she shivered. She was curled up on her side in her bed. It had been three days since that night, but Lyra still felt like it was happening in front of her all over again. She still saw the deathlike body lurch toward her and then crumble in its frailty. Even when she closed her eyes, the sight ghosted her like a mind-consuming plague. She hadn't had the easiest time breaking the news to Gamlen, and he hadn't taken it very well. He was just glad she had destroyed the mage, in the end. She thought maybe now, since they were the only two left, they might become better friends. It could be a long shot, but she didn't the harm in trying. She heard a knock at the door.

Anders had come once a day so far, hoping to find her in better spirits no doubt. She appreciated the gesture and his concern, but she wasn't too keen on pretending she was better for him once again. She didn't know if she'd ever feel better, when she thought about it. Even when Carver had died, it hadn't been like this. Her mother had been one of her key support systems along with Bethany. Now that her sister had been in the Circle for three years, she'd gotten used to not relying on her. But without any of them…her mother was right. She was here alone.

She ignored the knock. She didn't want to see him. She felt cruel because of it, but that didn't change anything. She rolled onto her other side so that she couldn't see the door. A second later, as she figured, it opened anyways and she heard it shut again. She breathed slowly.

"Hawke?"

She jerked up. That wasn't Anders's voice. Turning hastily the other way, she saw that she was correct. Fenris was in her doorway, gazing toward her direction reluctantly. She felt something rack through her and she got nervous. Why was Fenris here? She was such a mess…

"I don't know what to say, but…here I am."

Offering condolences, of course, Lyra told herself. She thought it was touching that he thought he should come, though she wasn't sure why he felt that way. She didn't have the answers, but the reasons for his presence didn't matter, she realized. She was glad he was there. She felt like she could ask him what she hadn't felt comfortable asking others.

"Is it my fault she's gone?" Lyra couldn't explain she felt like his answer would mean more than anyone else's.

Fenris glanced away, but when he looked back at her, she felt that she knew whatever he said wouldn't be something he would be just trying to comfort her with. He was going to tell it to her straight without buttering anything up. She prepared for the worst. "You're looking for forgiveness that I can not give you. The only one who you need to forgive is yourself."

Lyra looked down. That made more sense than anything else had to her in the past three days. She did feel like it was all her fault; she was convinced it was. Maybe, she just needed to forgive herself then…She felt the bed sink down slightly and realized Fenris had sat down beside her.

"They say death is only part of the journey, if that helps."

Lyra nodded and then glanced over at him again. "I didn't expect you to come, you know."

He turned his head and gazed at her. "I wanted to."

She wanted to smile, but his eyes transfixed her and she couldn't move or speak. Suddenly, she did feel much better, though. She realized he'd said what no one else was willing to say. It wasn't whether or not it was her fault her mother was gone now; rather, what mattered was that she come to terms with it. Perhaps, it made sense that he'd be the one to understand that most, considering how much struggling he'd had to undergo and suffer in order to accept his own past. She finally thought she could understand his battle now, or at least grasp it better than she ever could before.

"I should go." Fenris suddenly said. When Lyra couldn't hide her surprise, he elaborated further, "The mage could walk in any second."

Slightly amused, she watched him leave. The door closed behind him and she was left alone once again. Only this time, she actually felt like she could see how to feel better again. She felt hope that things would get better too. Kirkwall still needed her, and even if she did fail her mother, she knew she wouldn't ever fail Kirkwall.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Wow, a fourth chapter has finally arrived. This one is the longest one yet, but not purposely done that way, mind you. There's just so much to cover. I apologize if it's a bit out of whack towards the end – it's nearly 5 AM my time. You can all thank the muse bird for visiting me again on this random Friday night, because honestly, I had no intentions of writing until the muse bird sang a sweet tune in my ear and influenced me completely. I'm under the muse bird's spell you see, as are we all. Ah, wow, it's been nearly a month since I updated. One more week and this would be so. The muse bird has been on vacation, apparently. Anyhow, we are getting extremely close to wrapping up the in-game happenings. In fact, I believe after this chapter, only one more shall be necessary before my own plot begins. I noticed that for each new chapter, I get one more review than the previous one. That encourages me, so please don't get shy now. :]**

**/-/-/-/-/**

Three more years had rolled speedily by, Lyra thought to herself. Her mother had been dead and buried, marking the beginning of those years, though she hadn't known at the time what was to occur. She had thought losing her mother would be the toughest ordeal of her life, but before a month had passed after the premature death, Lyra had found herself facing the scrutiny and judgment of the Arishok. The Qunari had troubled her since the beginning of her time in Kirkwall, but she hadn't guessed back then, six years ago, that she would end up being the one who settled the score with them. Rescuing Kirkwall from the purge of the Qun had been the most beneficial feat she felt she'd accomplished for the city, the city she now considered her home.

How she did it would most likely forever be disputed, for she had to admit, Justice had influenced her somewhat. She had respected the Arishok, had felt pleased that he respected her in return; it was understandable, she felt, that she did not wish to kill him, in a duel, battle, or otherwise. She had found she had no qualms forcing the pirate queen Isabela to own up to her own tragic mistakes. The woman pirate, sarcastic as could be and nearly without morals, had somehow worked her way into Lyra's good graces; she hadn't ever really disliked Isabela. However, when the secrets of the past became apparent in the moment of chaos, Lyra had felt that she simply could not allow the other woman to so easily get away with not only stealing the ancient artifact and holy book of the Qun, but also her betrayal of trust to Lyra. She had claimed the only reason she returned was for Lyra, for realizing she needed to become a better person, but that didn't stop Lyra from sticking to her own code – the woman had to pay for her crimes, and since they were against the Qun, it was up to them to punish her as they saw fit. Isabela had been pissed, to put it delicately, but all Lyra could say to her was that she'd brought that fate upon herself. The Arishok and his Qunari had left, respect for her still intact, and Kirkwall had celebrated. She had become The Champion overnight.

She knew living with Anders and Justice had influenced her to want to do what was fair when it came down to it, and it bothered her. How many of her decisions had been her own, truly her own, if Justice had been influencing her mindset? She thought to herself she would have made the same decision concerning Isabela anyhow, but she just couldn't be sure. Was it possible that Justice was in fact finding Anders's attraction to her useful to his plans? Being able to manipulate, however subtly, The Champion of Kirkwall was something the obsessed spirit would not throw away lightly. Lyra shuddered, as she had every other time the exact same thought ran through her mind. The idea that Justice was controlling Anders to get to her was not a comforting idea, but she knew it was a possibility all the same.

The same realization had led her relationship with Anders to a rocky precipice of love and hate alternately showing face when the two of them interacted. He still lived with her, but over the three years they'd been together, she'd found him to be extremely moody; and his obsession with revenge for mages everywhere, not just in Kirkwall, eventually had become the only matter he cared to talk about. Lyra often found herself wondering what had happened to the Anders she'd risked opening up to back on that fateful eve when he'd come to her for the first time, but then she almost as often found that she knew the answer. She knew it with every fiber of her being whenever she looked across the room and saw the mage crouched over his manifesto, writing away, his shadow hardly moving against the wall as he maintained the same position for hours at a time. Anders had become more and more consumed with Justice, until he'd reached the point where he almost wasn't even the same man. Lyra could never say that, though it was her innermost thought. She had to hold on to hope that he'd come around eventually. She grimly wondered why she even cared.

/-/-/-/-/

"Lyra…" Anders said one evening after she came in the door to her room. Their room.

She let her eyes adjust to the dimness of the candlelit room, and found his form outlined by a shining light, the rest of his form shadowed by the canopy of her bed. He was sitting, his hands clasped together and resting on his knees as his head hung downward.

Serious as usual, she noted. She closed the door and moved further in. She was extremely tired, for taking on a high dragon hadn't exactly been on her itinerary for the day. She'd stumbled upon the dragon's lair nevertheless, and the battle had nearly killed herself and Fenris, Varric, and Merrill. Gloomily, she told herself not to be upset that Anders hadn't been willing to go with her on the excursion that morning even though his presence in the battle would have made it much easier as he was their only healer. Nobody could have known they'd run into the dragon, not even Justice. However, she knew she probably wouldn't be up for whatever Anders had in mind for the night.

"What is it, Anders?" She replied tiredly.

He didn't seem to notice the less than enthusiastic tone in her voice as she walked across the room and started preparing for bed, removing her shoes and so forth. "I'm…going to be trying something. And I thought, perhaps, you'd want to be a part of it."

Lyra eyed him as she removed her armor, not taking his tone too seriously since it seemed to be the tone he always took up with her these days, "If you're talking about some new, exciting way to make love then you can give it up right now, because I'm dead tired."

He almost smiled, but in the end he just blinked. "No. I've been wrong, all these years. What I did with Justice was unnatural, Lyra, every one tells me so but I just never could bring myself to admit it. Now I can. I never should have let it happen, his bondage to me."

Lyra had been stopped in her movements as she realized what he was saying. She was in utter disbelief. She'd long ago brought herself to terms with the fact that she'd always have both Anders and Justice, and that was just how it was going to be. Where he was going with this, she had no idea.

"I'm…glad you finally understand that." Was what she managed to say.

Anders looked up then, and found her eyes. "I can't help mages like this – not while I am everything the Templars fear about magic. I need to be free of this curse."

So, he was still obsessed with that plight of the mages. She knew it was what drove him in life, but the same old song did grow wearisome. She had hoped he had come to revelation for a different reason than for the aid of mages. She supposed that was simply too much to ask; everything revolved around mages for Anders lately.

"I think there's a way out." He finally said.

"A…a way out? What do you mean?" Lyra was confused. He'd always said it was irrevocable, his bond with Justice.

"I've spent the last three years studying the methods of Tevinter magisters," He elaborated.

Lyra came to a logical conclusion: Anders had only become interested in Tevinter anything because of Fenris's twisted past with them. She realized if Fenris had been hearing this, he'd no doubt be more than slightly upset that the mage had been studying the methods of the very people who had destroyed his memories. Surprisingly, she herself felt a bit of irritation that Anders found anything of the studies of the slaving magisters worth looking into. They were cruel and indecent; Fenris was proof of as much. Still, she held her tongue. If there was a way to be rid of Justice, then she was willing to dismiss nearly anything.

"They're the only ones who have ever sought to reverse spirit possession, not merely behead the victims. I believe I have found the formula for a potion that can separate Justice and me. Without harming either of us." Anders revealed, ending pointedly.

She sighed, but forced a smile. "What can I do to help?"

"Lyra, Andraste bless you." Anders smiled and reached out for her hand. "I knew you'd stand behind me in this. Even if…" he suddenly trailed off.

"What?" Lyra prompted.

Anders smiled again, "Nothing. I've gathered what I need, but there are some outlandish ingredients I was hoping you'd help me collect."

Lyra was slightly suspicious, but she agreed to hear out the rest of Anders's requests and then she settled herself for bed. Gathering the ingredients he'd listed off didn't sound too troublesome, but it would take a day at least to find the separate ones in their respective locations. She fell asleep with a new hope that night, though. The hope that maybe she was about to find the man she had been missing the past three years. Without Justice around, she suddenly thought, would she even know Anders? How much of himself had actually been himself when she'd met him, and how much controlled by the spirit? She told herself firmly that he was more in control than she was allowing herself to believe, and fell into a troubled sleep in which she chased a frisky cat into the Deep Roads.

In the midst of gathering the ingredients the next day, Lyra was unexpectedly heralded by Fenris. She had casually looked down the street one moment, turned to look the other way, and when turning back she'd seen the elf strolling towards her purposefully, but had offered a welcoming smile in his wake. His eyes seemed to glitter as he neared her, and she smiled.

"Good morning, Fenris."

"Hawke…Lyra. Good morning." He smiled in return.

"You've never used my first name before…" She mused.

He frowned, "I'm sorry, does that offend you?"

"No, no Fenris. It's actually quite nice." She nodded in affirmation. Truth was, she wanted to hear him say her name again. It was such a pleasant surprise, she just couldn't help it. "Well, I suppose you haven't sought me out purely for small talk."

"No, but perhaps another time?"

"I'd like that." She smiled.

"Well, then. Yes. I suppose you remember that I discovered the existence of a sister of mine a while ago. Three years ago. I…couldn't resist seeking her out, Lyra. I know I said it was folly, but I just had to know. She's waiting to meet me at the Hanged Man, actually."

"You found her?" Lyra was surprised. All the men in her life seemed to be catching her off-guard, it seemed.

"Yes, just like Hadriana said. She's a servant. But she agreed to see me. Now, that is. I know it's short notice, but I'd like you to come with me." Fenris confirmed.

Lyra hesitated, but said what she assumed, "You think it might be a trap…"

"That…" Fenris glanced downward, but looked up again after a moment, "…and also I just need someone to be there with me. I don't know if I can do this alone."

Lyra felt something in her warm. "Of course, Fenris, I'll go with you. It is rather short notice, but…I'd be more than willing to come."

He smiled at that, and they set off.

The Hanged Man was its usual crowded self, full of people of all sorts of different backgrounds scattered about the main dining room. The smell had grown to be something Lyra almost looked forward to after all her years in Kirkwall, and even more comforting than the familiarity of the place, she knew Varric was never far off when she was there. If this meeting did turn out to be a set up, then having an extra pair of hands, and a pair as fine as Varric's honed for the crossbow at that, would be advantageous. As they entered, Fenris scanned the room and seemed to spot a red-haired elfin lady sitting apart from the men. Lyra followed him to her, looking around for any signs of foul play.

"It really is you…" The elf said as they approached, looking down.

"Varania…" Fenris uttered, and Lyra glanced at him to see him working to compose his expression. "I…I remember you."

The elf, Varania, looked up again in response. Lyra dropped her guard, amazed that Fenris seemed to have suddenly found a piece of his missing memory as a result of seeing his sister again. It made sense, but it was something precious, she understood.

"We used to play together in our master's courtyard while mother worked. You called me…"

"Leto." Varania stood up then, her voice sounding emotional. "That's your name."

"What's wrong?" Fenris asked, noticing her distress as Lyra did. "Why are you so…?"

Something wasn't right, Lyra realized. "Fenris, we need to get out of here."

Fenris turned to her, confused, but ready to trust her, she saw. She was about to suggest they simply turn around and leave as quietly as they had entered when a new voice, cold and rigid, sounded.

"Ah, my little Fenris, predictable as always."

Chills running up her spine, Lyra turned and saw an older man in a pale blue habit appear at the top of the stairways that led to the private rooms. He had several others behind him, following like an entourage. Just his mere appearance struck a strange kind of fear in Lyra's heart; she could only imagine what Fenris might be feeling at that moment. She didn't dare hazard to take her eyes of the magister to look, though, however concerned for him she suddenly felt.

As the group descended the stairs, Varania's voice came softly, regretfully, "I'm sorry it came to this, Leto."

Fenris leered forward, his anger palpable, "You led him here!"

"Now, now, Fenris. Don't blame your sister," The magister stated as he approached them, coming up behind her, "She did what any good, imperial citizen should."

Fenris wasn't having it, though, Lyra saw. She turned and braced herself for whatever was about to come. "I never wanted these filthy markings, Danarius. I won't let you kill me to get them."

The magister chuckled sardonically. "How little you know, my pet…"

Varania glanced over at him then, sidelong, obviously struggling with herself. Lyra found herself glaring at the magister. This was Danarius, the man Fenris had first asked her to help him find six years ago the night they had met. He was the source of all the trouble in the elf's life, she knew, but it was somehow so much more blunt and raw to her with him standing before them, an unmistakable marker for reality. The reality, Fenris had told her once, was that he'd always been running. Eventually, even the fox was caught in the chase, Lyra thought, whether it was on the run or nestled in its burrow in one last vein attempt to hide. She wasn't going to let Fenris end up like the fox, she determined stonily.

"Ah, so this is your new mistress," Danarius noted, turning his gaze upon her for the first time, "The Champion of Kirkwall." He smiled. "Quite lovely."

Enraged, Lyra replied bluntly, "Fenris doesn't belong to _anyone_."

Danarius frowned then, "Do I detect a note of jealousy? It's not surprising…the lad is rather skilled isn't he?"

Taken aback, Lyra fumbled for words. Jealousy? Did she sound jealous? Of what, she wanted to know. She trembled at the implications Danarius's last statement implied. He must have been something terrible indeed.

"Be quiet, Danarius." Fenris ordered then, and without having to turn to see him, Lyra knew the lyrium in his flesh was glowing brightly in response to his fury.

Danarius chuckled once more. "The word you're looking for is 'master'."

And before proper preparation could be made, Varania backed away as the men behind the magister surged forward in a straight on attack. Fenris immediately dispatched the first of them that reached him with the power of the lyrium so ready for wielding, but that still left the two of them facing five magisters. Unsheathing her blades, Lyra moved into a battle position beside Fenris, and felt a brief wave of relief upon seeing Varric appear at the top of the stairway with Bianca in tow. Three to five she was certain they could pull off.

The battle wasn't the easiest they'd undergone. Fighting five full-fledged magisters was hardly like taking care of the usual spiders and bandits Lyra encountered on a daily basis. But, she and the others were skilled enough that they were able to methodically work their way toward Danarius, who centered himself within the circle of his guards. In the end, the battle itself lasted only a few minutes, though it felt like an eternity. Battles always did. Fenris landed the final blow on the magister, as was at least what he was entitled to, and the old man fell over at last.

He was panting as he lay withered on the wooden planked flooring of the room when Fenris moved over to him. Without warning, Fenris's gripped the man's robe collars and hefted him high into the air, his lyrium burning brightly again in the process of doing so, and a look of pure hated etched upon his handsome face. Lyra felt that she was witnessing something extremely powerful on more than one level.

"You are no longer my master." Fenris declared, and in one swift movement the magister went limp and Fenris dropped him to the floor once again, blood gathering in a pool instantly.

The snarling scowl Fenris wore was not satisfied just yet, though, Lyra realized as he quickly turned in search of his sister. She followed his gaze and saw her, cowering fearfully in the corner she'd backed into earlier, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. Lyra almost felt pity for her, but she knew Fenris would not. He would not take deception and betrayal lightly, of that she was sure.

"I had no choice, Leto…" Varania stated, mastering her fear momentarily.

Fenris strode toward her, "Stop calling me that."

Lyra sheathed her blades again and stepped over behind the two of them, concerned. Fenris seemed to be even more upset than she figured he would be; in fact, he almost sounded out of control. She did not think it would be wise to interfere, though.

"He was going to make me his apprentice. I would have been a magister." Varania pleaded.

"You sold out your own brother to become a magister?" Fenris's voice sounded deadly furious.

It took Lyra a second to register that what Varania claimed meant that she had to be a mage in the first place. That could definitely explain more of what fueled Fenris's hatred to the magic wielders. She could imagine what Anders would say if he were there, and suddenly she thought that she was extremely relieved he wasn't. Fenris wouldn't have deserved more berating from Anders.

"You have no idea what we went through, what I've had to do since mother died. This was my only chance." Varania implored.

"Now you have no chance at all." Fenris stated, edging nearer.

"Please, don't do this!" Varania held up her hands defensively.

Lyra felt torn as Varania turned her eyes on her then, desperately. "Please, tell him to stop!"

She could easily pull herself either way of the spectrum. It only seemed fair that Varania die for her betrayal; at the same time, she did have a reason for acting as she had. If she truly had no other choice than to become a magister, then what else could she have been expected to do? But then again, she didn't have to sell her brother out so straight forward and easily. She had been just as willing to let Fenris die for own sake, as he seemed to be willing to kill her now for something bigger, a complete breach of trust. She could have gone on and on arguing with herself, she realized. She didn't care what was just at that moment, or what seemed the more right thing to do.

"It's not my place to decide to your fate." She finally stated. Fenris had been looking at her for permission, she realized as she said those worse. He was free to decide for himself, though, and she believed he was seeing that now for himself.

"I would have given you everything." He simply stated.

A moment later his lyrium glowing hand reached out to his sister just as he had killed Hadriana three years ago, and the elfin woman drifted downward slowly as she gasped in shock. Somehow, Lyra had thought Fenris would kill her. She didn't know if it was the right or the wrong choice, but what mattered was that he had been able to decide for himself. That was what mattered to her, she discovered then.

Fenris stood with his head down for a moment before turning around to face her. He looked profusely sad as he said, "I thought discovering my past would bring a sense of belonging. But I was wrong…Magic has tainted that too. There is nothing for me to reclaim," he said, glancing over his shoulder once more at his now dead sister, "I am alone."

The heartbreaking note in his final statement tore at something inside Lyra, in a way she couldn't explain. All at once she felt the tides of the shore in her heart shift, like the moon was rewriting the pattern in which they should roll. She felt the unappeasable need to comfort Fenris then, to say whatever needed to be said to ease the vast amount of pain she knew he must be experiencing. She moved forward without warning and found his hand with her own. He looked up, and she hesitated.

"You're not alone, Fenris. You have…friends."

"Is that what we are?" He asked suddenly, nearly before she'd finished saying the word.

There was a heavy silence hanging between them then, and Lyra hardly noticed Varric cunningly easing away from them, pretending not to hear a thing. She didn't know what to say. What did Fenris want her to say? She couldn't tell…she just didn't know what she herself even wanted to say. She was confused, more mystified than she'd ever felt before her entire life. She became conscious of his hand still in her own, and couldn't recall when she had moved forward to take it. Fenris finally looked away, she supposed after deciding she wasn't going to answer him. That in itself could almost be taken for an answer all on its own, she recognized.

"I feel unclean…" Fenris muttered, gazing away from her. "…Like this magic is not only etched into my skin, but has also stained my soul. And now, this." Again he looked at his sister's body. "…I need some air."

He then turned and left, pulling his hand just out of her grasp before exiting the Hanged Man and leaving Lyra standing there, still baffled, and staring at the corpses of the people who had shaped the elf's life up until mere moments ago.

/-/-/-/-/

Finding the rest of the ingredients had taken Lyra's mind away from Fenris for the rest of the day. As night fell and with the supplies carefully tucked in her pouch, Lyra headed to the clinic to tell Anders of her success. She was sure he'd be pleased. Originally, she thought she would have been pleased as well. Things were changing too quickly, though, and her mind couldn't keep up with the unexpected lurches of her heart. She wasn't sure what she wanted anymore. All she knew was that things seemed to be shifting out of her control. She may be The Champion of Kirkwall, but she could not be in command of every single factor of her life, she had found, and she was slowly losing what little control she did have.

Arriving at the clinic in Dark Town, Lyra knocked lightly and walked through the entrance. Anders appeared quickly, and smiled briefly upon seeing her. She reached into her pouch and produced the ingredients for him. He accepted them happily and then looked at her once more.

"There is one more thing I must ask you to do, Lyra, and I can't tell you why."

Lyra remained silent, telling herself not to notice he hadn't even bothered to thank her before delving into a new request. Was everything she did for him taken for granted? Stop it, she told herself. She was being petty.

"I must get inside the Chantry without being seen. Will you talk to the Grand Cleric for me? Distract her long enough for me to do what must be done?"

"Anders…what is going on?" Lyra couldn't help it. He was acting so bizarrely.

"Please, you don't want to know. It will be easier for both of us if you just trust me." Anders entreated her, and she didn't have the heart to push him further for an explanation.

"All right, Anders, I won't desert you now…but what do you expect me to talk about with her?"

"Anything, food, weather…no. Talk about mages. Give her one last chance to make up her mind, Lyra." Anders's eyes gleamed passionately.

She nodded, though she knew he wouldn't be able to tell it was only for show.

"I don't deserve you." He said soberly. "I promise, whatever happens, it's on my head. It will not come back on you."

She tried to smile at him, assuring herself as much as him, but she found it was difficult to do so. Instead, she turned and led the way silently to the Chantry. It was nightfall by now, dark even with the stars overhead, twinkling merrily. A chill was about the city though, and for some reason, Lyra thought it had nothing to do with the winter winds still blowing despite the coming of spring. Again, she thought, it had been three years since the fateful winter when her mother had died. Three years and now winter and come and gone again.

Once they reached the Chantry, Anders snuck in before her and she allowed a few minutes to pass before she went in after him. She walked down the hallway and towards the massive shrine in the center of the building, surrounded by double staircases. The Grand Cleric was indeed there, but she turned upon hearing Lyra's approach.

"Maker's blessing, Champion." The elderly woman offered.

Lyra smiled in response, suddenly regretting that she was going to be deceiving this high-ranking woman. She actually respected her. It was too late though, she decided.

"Have you come to pray?" The woman asked then.

She asked the one question that she knew would take the longest to answer, "Have you thought about which side you'll take? The Templars or the Mages?"

The other woman sighed. "It's not secret that you count an apostate among your friends. You have done much to found the flames of rebellion here. We must give time to let Meredith and Orsino work out their differences, though. No good can come of showing favor to one side or the other."

Lyra kept her talking a while longer, exploring what she said concerning both mages and Templar. The Grand Cleric seemed to be pretty neutral concerning the two different groups, she found, and realized she agreed with her for the most part. Neither side was completely right in its doings, but she wasn't quite sure which side she was more for at the moment. She hoped it didn't boil down to a point where she had to decide once and for all. After a while, Anders finally appeared again.

"There you are, I've been looking for you all over!" Anders smiled as he came up. Lyra tried to play along by looking surprised to see him. He turned to the other woman. "Your grace."

"Your soul is troubled, child. I hope you found a balm for it here." The Grand Cleric stated calmly, though after a moment's hesitation and with a concerned glint in her eyes.

Lyra knew her suspicions were real then, if someone else had noticed the strangeness of Anders's actions now besides her. What he had just done she had no idea, and she didn't think she wanted to know. As long as he was working towards getting rid of Justice, she wasn't going to ask questions. They left the Chantry then, the two of them, and headed home to sleep. The next day came too quickly.

When Lyra woke up, she found Anders already about, but he was dressed differently now. Instead of his usual outfit, he seemed to be in all black. That was very odd, she immediately decided.

"Anders?"

"Lyra, I respect you." He said suddenly, turning to face her now that she was awake. "You've stood by me when no one else has, when I gave you every reason to turn away. Whatever happens, I wanted you to know that."

"Why are you acting so strangely, Anders?" Lyra asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She was growing even more apprehensive, more and more disturbed by his recent behavior. And now he had changed his customary wardrobe as well? What in Andraste's name was going on?

He looked away. "He'll still be here you know – Justice - long after you and I are gone. He'll just go back to the Fade."

"Anders…you've always been a good friend. You're scaring me, though."

"No, I haven't. And I'm sorry. I was hoping I'd find a better way, but Justice and Vengeance are too intertwined, and I can't tell one from the other. At any rate, you've been better to me than I deserve." Anders smiled, and before she could say anything else, he walked out in his new garb.

She shook her head, dreading finding the cause of what was making him so queer lately. She knew she'd almost rather not know. Jadedly, she got out of bed and dressed for the day. She needed to talk to someone who made sense.

She didn't know why, but her feet led her to Fenris's mansion that morning. She hadn't seen him since the previous day when he'd left after the ordeal with his sister and Danarius. She had been worrying about him, she realized, underneath struggling to understand what Anders was up to. She didn't knock on the door, but let herself into the horribly unkempt mansion of the late magister whom had owned it in life. Inside, she saw candles lighting the balcony that housed the room where Fenris spent most of his time, and headed up the stairs.

He was inside. He turned to face her upon hearing footsteps approach. He seemed to smile slightly at finding it was her, and she allowed herself to smile back. He seemed much better, she could already tell.

"I am free. Danarius is dead." Fenris started, but his smile faded. "It doesn't feel like it should, Lyra."

She tilted her head. "It seems like you should be dancing for joy."

"I would have thought so…I thought if I didn't need to run and fight to stay alive, I'd finally be able to live as a free man. But how is that? My sister is gone, and I have nothing, not even an enemy." He looked away, despondently.

"Maybe, that just means there's nothing holding you back…" Lyra offered. She feared she wasn't the best person to go to for advice, but she still wanted to try to help as best she could.

"Hmm. An interesting thought. It's just…difficult to overlook the stain that magic has had on my life. If I seem bitter, it's not without cause. Perhaps, it is time to move forward, though. I just…don't know where that leads." He had been looking away still, but he seemed to magnetically return his gaze to hers. She knew there were several things she could say then. But she was perplexed as ever, and not sure which of them was the best thing to put to words.

She tried. "Wherever it means…I just hope it means you'll be around."

For a moment, Fenris was silent, but then he smiled. "That is my hope as well."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: It has been far, far too long, and for that I apologize. So much happened that took me away from this story, but there's not enough room to explain it all here. In short, it was college. It may have seemed like I'd forgotten this story altogether, but I promise I never did. I hope never to take this long to update again, and I honestly don't think I will, but sometimes life throws an unexpected turn. I got several of those in the past six months. But all that matters is that I'm back to this story for you guys, I know. This was a difficult chapter to write…it has a lot in-game dialogue, but I got to be creative at the end. And yes, this is **_**finally **_**the last in-game chapter. I keep promising I'll get to my own plot soon, well here it is. The next chapter will be all my own. The dialogue at the end with Fenris is completely made up by me, as there are no videos on Fenris's final dialogue for a non-romance relationship. Go figure. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy it. **

**/-/-/-/-/**

The entire situation had gotten ridiculously out of control, Lyra thought grimly as she raced through Lowtown. Meredith and Orsino had been at each others' throats for weeks, though, so she had known something drastic was bound to happen sooner or later despite all her efforts to quell the argument. Why were people so bent on using tunnel vision, she wondered. If only they took the time to step out of their own perspectives to consider another, they might see compromise was indeed an option. Well, it had been…Lyra wasn't so sure it still was. From what the messenger had said, which wasn't much, reason wasn't compelling to the two leaders anymore. So what had been done? They'd called their Champion, their almighty peacemaker and negotiator. She's always been able to settle disputes in the past, she's saved the city from the Qunari, and she still had time to help her own party members on top of everything. Only the week before she'd assisted Varric in ridding the world of his brother Bartrand. This was an argument she hadn't been having much luck with, though, and it worried Lyra. She couldn't do everything…

The tower's walls were visible ahead, a crowd congregating beneath its vast staircase. Lyra, along with all her party members, neared them and strained to see what the commotion was. Meredith and Orsino, she thought. They were encircled by the crowd, each by their respective followers, all of them shouting incoherently at each other. _Ridiculous_, she thought again. She slowed as she reached the citizens of Kirkwall. As soon as she was recognized they parted and allowed her to push through their ranks until she finally came to the center, right in front of the Chantry stairs. Meredith and Orsino looked implacable as they leered and gestured wildly at one another. Mentally sighing, she stepped forward.

"I _will_ have the tower searched, top to bottom!" Meredith was insisting.

"You cannot do that!" Orsino objected, shaking his head with indignation, "You have no right."

Meredith frowned something terrible and said pointedly, "I have _every _right. You are harboring blood mages, and I intend to root them out before they infect this city."

Orsino threw his hands up in the air, "_Blood magic_, where do you not see blood magic? My people cannot so much as sneeze without you accusing them of corruption."

"Do not trifle with me mage, my patience is at an end."

"That's a wonder, considering I never saw it begin."

They finally noticed Lyra's arrival as she stepped right up to them, almost having to get between them to keep them from jumping at each other. She glanced at each of their expressions and noted that neither looked apt on negotiating at this point. In fact, they didn't appear too thrilled to see her there at all. No one was unwelcome so much as an arbitrator when people were convinced there was no compromise, she mused.

"You two go at it like a married couple, you know. People will talk." She stated.

Meredith scowled and turned to her. "This does not concern you, Champion."

_Does not concern me? I've been the shepherd of this city for six years, _Lyra had to bite her tongue.

"I called her here," Orsino announced, "I think the people deserve to know just what you've done."

Meredith rounded on him, "What I have done is protect the people of this city time and again! What I have done is protect you mages from your curse and your own stupidity!" She looked back at Lyra, speaking to her now, "And I will not stop doing it. I will not lower my guard – I dare not."

This was too much, and Lyra simply couldn't stand it any longer. She was done trying to understand. "Does the word 'crazy' mean anything to you?"

That earned her another scowl. "What other option do we have? Tell me, Champion, that you have no seen with your own eyes what they can do…heard the lies of mages who seek power…"

Lyra paused. She'd seen a little bit of everything by now, what Meredith described as well as exceptions to it. She'd always tried to avoid passing an all-inclusive judgment on the mages, though. They weren't all going to give into the temptation of blood magic, just as not every Templar was going to uphold the vows he took to get into the order. She saw the appeal of Meredith's position, but somehow she couldn't force herself to condemn a person who had committed no crime nor expressed any intent to do so.

"Some of us want exactly what you want, Meredith. Peace and protection. We're not the enemy." Lyra said carefully.

Orsino came forward then, "You would cast as us all as villains, Meredith, but it is not so."

"I know…" Meredith admitted, and slowly turned to him again, "And it breaks my heart to do it, but we must be vigilant. If you cannot tell me another way to do it, then do not brand me a tyrant."

"This is getting us nowhere," Orsino muttered, "Grand Cleric Elthina will put a stop to this."

He moved as if to go to the Chantry at once, but Meredith stopped him yet again.

"You will _not _bring her Grace into this!" She declared vehemently.

Lyra was about to suggest that the Grand Cleric might have some propitious insight in this argument, as she had in previous debacles between the First Enchanter and Knight Commander, when she heard a sound from the crowd behind her. The people let out a collective sighing sound and heavy footsteps could be heard. She looked over her shoulder, expecting anything but what she saw. Anders, in his newly donned black garb, was stepping forward, a hard-set line shadowing his eyes, his brow creased with gravity. She started to ask what he was doing, but he spoke before anyone had a chance to say another word.

"The Grand Cleric cannot help you now." He informed them.

Displeased at his affront, Meredith turned her hatred on him, "Explain yourself, mage."

"I will not stand by and watch you treat all mages as criminals," Anders stated passionately, "while those who lead us bow to their Templar jailors."

Orsino was not amused at that, "How dare you speak to-"

"The Circle has failed us Orsino. Even you should be able to see that!" Anders began to glow as Justice threatened to break his control, and Lyra started to feel genuinely worried, "The time has come to act; there can be no half-measures."

"Anders…what have you done?" Lyra asked gravely, reaching towards him desperately.

Guilt flickered in his eyes at once, and she felt hollow, a worrying surge in her stomach.

"There can be no turning back." He said, glancing at the tower behind them meaningfully.

Suddenly, Lyra was aware that the ground was rumbling slightly, gaining force every second. She was losing her balance. Shouting from the crowd took up, and some people pointed up at the tower. Lyra whirled and took in the sight, her jaw agape as she began to understand. The tower trembled dreadfully, the ground shaking now so that people had to throw out their arms to keep from falling over. A horrible drone sounded from within the tower, and suddenly a red flash of light burst straight out through the top of it, blinding Lyra completely so that she threw an arm across her eyes. Dark clouds swirled overhead, ominous and frightening. She dared not look away for long though, and peered over her arm cautiously, fear threatening to paralyze her. The beam of light burst into multiple beams, each stretching far out from the tower itself and reaching out into the sky as far as the eye could behold. The shaking was so violent Lyra thought the ground might fall out from beneath her. Suddenly, the beams exploded ferociously, the tower burst outward, other parts of the Chantry toppling down to crash on the street below. After a thunderous boom and last blaze of illumination, the Chantry was completely obliterated, wiped out of existence in only a few, prolonged seconds.

Lyra straightened up, shell-shocked with disbelief, gaping at the place where the tower had stood only a moment ago. Smoke wafted through the streets, clouding the city in a menacing shadow. The Grand Cleric had been inside, along with numerous other Chantry members, she realized. She would never again ask her Grace for advice, though she hadn't done so very often before anyways. Still, the idea that a woman she had spoken to only a couple of weeks ago was gone now gave her a headache. It was mind-blowing. She slowly turned back to Anders. Flames from the explosion fluttered down onto the street all around them, and fire had caught ablaze on several buildings. Probably all over the entire city. This was a disaster, and he had caused it…

"Maker have mercy…" Meredith mumbled. The Templars surrounded her protectively.

Anders was beside her, she realized, and she looked to him with the question showing in her eyes.

"There can be no peace." He told her quietly.

Orsino turned, his face looking ragged with remorse. "Why? Why would you do such a thing?"

"I removed the chance of compromise…because there is no compromise." Was Anders's response.

_He has no idea how skewed that is, _Lyra realized. It was a paradox.

"The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic, the Chantry destroyed," Meredith stated, not looking at any of them in particular. She paused a moment, collecting herself, but when she faced them all, Lyra could see she had made up her mind. Her face was firm as stone, betraying nothing. "As Knight Commander of Kirkwall, I hereby invoke the Right of Annulment. Every mage in the Circle is to be executed. Immediately."

Desperate, Orsino looked to Lyra, "The Circle didn't even do this! Champion, you can't let her do this…stop this madness!"

As if she hadn't even heard him, Meredith continued her imperious declaration, addressing Lyra, "And Champion, I demand you stand with us. Even you must see that this outrage cannot be tolerated."

Lyra looked between the two of them, realizing what they were doing to her: they were forcing her to take a side. She was finally about to have to do what she had been avoiding ever since she realized there was a fractious odium between Templars and mages in the city. She'd tried so fiercely to keep the situation from becoming this dire, but how could she have known she would be betrayed from the inside? She looked at Anders and saw that he had been planning this for some time. It was in his eyes, as it had been lurking within him for years; she just hadn't been willing to see it until he had forced her to. She had trusted him…She had put hers and Kirkwall's safety in his hands.

"It can't be stopped now. You have to choose." He told her.

He'd been waiting on her to choose ever since they'd met. He'd needed that from her; nothing else was enough. Well, she was going to choose. But she was going to choose for herself, not for anyone else. Not for Meredith, not for Orsino, and certainly not for Anders. No, this decision would be based on her own beliefs.

"This won't be easy…but I will defend you." She addressed Orsino.

"Hawke, if you do this…I don't know if I can follow you." That was Aveline.

Beside her, Fenris questioned, "And so, you would defend these mages after all they have done…throw yourself at a hopeless cause?"

Even Varric asked, "Are you sure about this? Even you might not win this fight."

Merrill was the most supportive, for obvious reasons, "I know we can do this. I believe in you, Hawke."

Lyra looked at them all, one by one, taking into account all of their separate feelings. She hoped they would stand by her no matter what, but after Anders's fine display of loyalty, she wasn't sure whom to trust anymore.

"Think carefully, Champion. Stand with them, and you share their fate." Meredith told her, a warning lingering in her tone.

But Lyra was sure; this was what she felt was right. "I can live with that." It sounded ironic, considering Meredith was implying they'd all die.

"Thank the Maker." Orsino let out his breath.

Behind her, her companions made their own decisions as well.

"I see what you are trying to do…and my place is with you." Aveline told her.

Fenris had been peering at the ground, but she walked over to him to get his answer. This was difficult for him, she knew. He glanced up cautiously, his eyes peering into hers, searching. She had made her choice, though, and she couldn't change it. Not even for him.

"I know you won't like it, but I could use your help Fenris…"

He sighed, "You've done so much for me, and it would be wrong of me to desert such a dear friend. It is a mistake…but I will not abandon you, Lyra."

Relief swept through her, and she managed a meek smile.

"You are a fool, Champion. Kill them all!"

Suddenly, Meredith's Templars bombarded them as the Knight Commander darted out of harm's way and disappeared. The Templars were expertly trained in combat, but so were all of her friends. The battle was quick despite the advantage the Templars had, thanks to Orsino and the other mages. It was dismal, but it was just a taste for what lied ahead, Lyra knew. When the last Templar fell, she sheathed her blades and took a weighty breath.

"So it's come to this…" Came Orsino's voice. He sounded sorrowful and lost. They all were.

She approached him, and he said, "I don't know if we can win this war, Champion, but I thank you."

She nodded, and then Orsino glanced over and she followed his gaze. Anders sat on a step beneath the ruined Chantry across the courtyard. "I will leave your…friend for you to deal with. I must return to the Gallows; meet me there as soon as you can." He stalked away in a hurry, and left her staring confused, at the man she'd taken into her home years before.

She walked slowly toward him, and came to a terrible, terrible conclusion. She wasn't sure what was about to happen, but she knew what she believed to be true. She stopped a foot away from the man, biting her lip, feeling utterly betrayed.

"There's nothing you can say to me that I haven't already said to myself. I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this. This is the justice all mages have awaited."

"I might have understood if you'd only told me. But instead you deceived and used me." Lyra was looking down, afraid to glimpse him.

"I…wanted to tell you. But what if you'd stopped me? Or worse, what if you'd wanted to help? I couldn't let you do that." Anders replied. "The world needs to see this, so we can stop pretending the Circle is a solution. If I pay for that with my life…then I pay. Perhaps, then Justice would at least be free."

_Justice, _Lyra grimaced. All he truly cared about was justice. He may have thought he cared about her, and perhaps a part of him did, but he lived, breathed, and bled for one thing only. And it was time she faced the fact that it wasn't her. He spoke of paying with his life, and she thought maybe he somewhat expected to die. There was no other way. At one time, she might have found a way to forgive him. She might have been able to if he'd loved her the way he had promised he would. She might have been able to if he hadn't just murdered Andraste knew how many innocent people.

"You're so fond of justice, Anders. I've lived with you the past three years, I should know. Well, what would be the just thing to do to a murderer?" She hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but it had come out of nowhere.

Anders rose and faced her, "Is that what you think I am?"

"Anders, you've just slain the Grand Cleric. Not to mention everyone else who was unfortunate enough to be in the Chantry ten minutes ago." She replied.

"I've already explained my reason-"

"And I've heard it. But the truth is, this wasn't necessary. No one forced you to use me, you just decided it had to be done. Certainly no one forced you to blow up the Chantry. I…I trusted you."

His expression softened and he stepped forward as if to embrace her, but she stepped away. "No," she said, "I cannot take comfort from your touch any longer."

That pained him, but it was the truth. "You said you'd stand by me," he reminded her.

"I will not condone murder, Anders. I never have before, and I'm not about to start. You…you have to pay for what you've done."

"Lyra, I love you…but this had to be done. There was no other way."

"So you've said…but you said you'd pay. You're going to have to." She was barely keeping control.

"Kill me if you must." Anders said then, clenching his jaw.

"I…" Her voiced failed her, and her resistance softened. She had known him for years and years, nearly a decade now. She'd laughed with him, cried with him, she knew so much about him, and yet she knew nothing about him. She'd been set on making him pay with his life, that was what he deserved. But something just…wouldn't let her do that. She couldn't. She wasn't strong enough.

"I wish that I could." She finally muttered. "But I cannot."

"Then let me help you defend the mages."

She looked at him and saw he'd been counting on that. It angered her that he thought he could manipulate her emotions so easily. He'd used her, and betted on her forgiving him. But she wouldn't.

"No."

"I…but…no?" Finally, something that wasn't going according to his plan; he looked confounded.

"Whatever we had…was lost long ago." She said. It was true, she knew it was. "I can't allow you to stay here. You've done more than enough."

"Lyra…are you…you're not serious." Dismayed.

"I'm completely serious! Anders, I am not yours to pull the strings and puppet about this way and that. I have my own beliefs too, and this time they are not the same as yours. I cannot kill you, that is some failing I have. But, I cannot allow you to stay in our midst either. You have betrayed us all. I sent Isabela away for less than what you've done here, today."

He stared at her stonily. "Where would you have me go?"

"Leave. Leave Kirkwall, and never come back."

He stood there a moment longer, waiting for her, giving her a chance to change her mind, to take it back, to take him back. But she would not budge on this. He'd gone too far, and he wasn't the same man she had taken her chances on so long ago. This was someone new, someone hardened and cruel, someone strange and unknown. She didn't think she'd care to get to know him. Finally, he dipped his head in obedience and retreated. She watched him stride past their friends, the flames of his masterpiece trickling down around him like confetti. The smoke enveloped him, and then he was gone. He…was…gone.

Her strength failed her at last, and she dropped to her knees, staring at the bloodied ground. She was weary with grief, so very weary. The thought of all that was still left to do was daunting. But, she was the Champion. She had a duty to perform, and people to save. She had to be strong, if only for a little while longer. A hand appeared before her, inviting and encouraging. She looked up. Fenris was facing her, his arm outstretched. She took it and he lifted her up.

"Here I am, about to defend these mages in hopeless battle…you lead me to strange places, Lyra."

"I am only trying to do what's right…" She replied, taking a breath.

"I know. That is why I will follow where you lead."

She released his hand, but gave him a half smile, "Then we'd better get on with it."

He nodded and then she looked at her friends. They were ready to follow her anywhere, she realized. That was good, because she had no idea where they were headed, ultimately. Taking another deep breath, she unsheathed her twin blades and then headed off into the smoke, readying herself to fight a path to the Gallows. She didn't know what would be awaiting them there, but she knew they could handle anything when they all worked together. It was time to save Kirkwall one last time. As they moved, she looked beside her and felt a soothing kind of comfort when she found Fenris there, marching with her in support. She was proud of him. He didn't harbor any great love for mages, and yet he was going to help her. She was thankful for that.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I took longer than expected to get this out, but hey, what can I say. Inspiration strikes exactly when inspiration means to, and not a minute sooner. This chapter was sooo fun. I mean, yes. I finally got to do a completely original chapter, all my own scenes and dialogue, and it feels epic. I hope you guys like it as much as I do. And don't be shy. Oh, also, expect a few typos. It's late and I don't feel like proofing this in the slightest. **

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Clearing a way to the Gallows proved more tedious than Lyra had anticipated it would originally. Templars and mages battled mercilessly around every corner, and it was Lyra's prerogative to step in and help each of them. She didn't savor killing so many Templars; she didn't savor having to pick a side at all, she thought. But, if the Templars were going to obey every single one of Meredith's less than sane orders, then that was their choice. Shades and blood mages seemed to spawn out of nowhere, though, and Lyra had to handle them as well. She'd seen her fair share of them in all her years in Kirkwall, but this time it was different. These blood mages seemed purely sinister, whereas in her previous experience, most blood mages only became so out of necessity or fear. It seemed that the ones who voluntarily chose to participate in blood magic summoned much stronger foes. It was one great surprise that Lyra was absolutely thrilled about. She even thought for a few moments she was lost for good when a pride demon showed face. Maker, she hated pride demons…

Having Bethany back was something, though. Lyra had been overcome with relief when her sister turned Grey Warden had miraculously appeared shortly after Anders had vanished. It had been years since she last truly had time to talk to her sister, not counting the one encounter when mages abducted and held her hostage. Bethany had missed their mother's death, and well, just about everything intimate about Lyra's life since the Deep Roads Expedition. Lyra couldn't express how welcome her return was. Bethany had matured and grown so much. Her magic had developed and her skills had been honed; she was now a force to be reckoned with. Lyra definitely didn't regret letting Anders find the Grey Wardens to help her sister now. It wasn't Bethany's dream come true by a long shot, but she had benefitted from it in ways neither of them could have predicted before.

Lyra sighed, remembering what had happened when they'd reached The Gallows, finally. She didn't want to think about it. It had been a couple of days since, but she was still exhausted, physically and mentally. It was all such a blur…Orsino turning to blood magic at the last instant, and giving up hope right when they had Meredith cornered. Lyra would never understand what had snapped in his mind. One minute, he was leading mages to their freedom, the next he was spewing aught nonsense blood magic and futility. He'd left them no choice – he attacked them first. He had to be taken out. Lyra wished that had turned out differently. And then Meredith, the Knight Commander herself – gone sodding off her rocker. The damned Idol. She'd been the buyer. Great timing, Lyra remembered thinking. She and Varric both had been, in a word, flabbergasted. It was no wonder Meredith had gone so power hungry in the recent years. She'd been strict before, but with the Idol in her possession, well, her bad side got a lot worse. The battle against her and her summoned statues was…ethereal. Lyra was grateful Ser Cullen had switched his loyalty at the last minute, defending her and her friends. He wasn't essential to their victory, but she hated to kill every one of the Templars as much as she would have hated for them to kill every one of the mages. The battle itself didn't matter…Meredith and Orsino both were gone now. And that meant…she was the only one left with any sort of control over Kirkwall.

There was supposed to be some sort of celebration that night, in her honor. The Champion of Kirkwall was to be thanked, it would appear. Lyra wasn't sure how to feel about that. She'd merely done what she always had: jumped in and rescued the victimized party. She'd never needed a thanks before, and she really didn't want to start now. Seneschal Bran insisted otherwise, though. He had told her something along the lines of her having to accept now that she was the only political figurine left, and the people would want a hero. Her, a hero. She shook her head, scoffing at that idea. What would happen now, she didn't know. She decided it was about time to get ready to leave her estate. The celebration was to begin at sundown, and already she could see the sky blushing outside her windows. In her room, she found her Champion of Kirkwall plate armor suit in all its golden splendor, and donned it. Maker, it was stiflingly hot. She wondered if she would be expected to wear it the entire night. Hoping for the best, she figured she'd go ahead and bring a change into something more comfortable with her.

As she went pulled open her drawers, she caught sight of the robes. Anders's robes. Of course, she told herself, they weren't going to just disappear along with him. She laid her hand on the silky blue of one robe. He'd worn it on their first official date, she recalled. A night so long ago it might not have ever happened save for the robe staring her in the face. She pulled it out of the drawer and tossed it onto the floor. She'd have to get all of his stuff out of here, now, including those cursed socks he never picked up. She didn't have time for this right now, though, she reminded herself. Sighing, she hastily found a suitable change of clothes for later and then tucked them beneath her breastplate. They weren't even noticeable with all the bulk of her armor in the way. The left the robe on the floor, to be a reminder to clean house when she had time, and then headed down the stairs. Sandal and Bodahn had already departed, she noted as she walked out the door. She wished them luck in their travels. She'd miss that boy always muttering, "enchantment" in the days to come.

The walk to Viscount's Keep wasn't as long as it had been in her first three years in Kirkwall. She used to have to hike all through Kirkwall from Lowtown back then; now she was living in Hightown and the walk was just around a couple corners. Citizens were already bustling about in the streets, heading toward the Keep where the celebratory festive music was already resonating through the streets. Everyone was invited. She saw Darktown, Alienage, and Lowtown denizens intermingled within the Hightown nobles heading up the streets, and it put a smile on her face. It was nice to see everyone getting along for a change, even if it would only be for a night. Hopefully, the travesty that had struck would unify the residents of Kirkwall more, though. It had certainly brought the Templars and mages together, in their respective parties, of course. She thought though, that she could sense some civility between them though, especially since the few remaining Templars were the ones who'd turned face against Meredith and defended the innocent mages.

"Hawke, how'd you like to join me in crashing your own party?"

Lyra glanced over and down at the charming voice of Varric. He was grinning and dressed in a stunning deep crimson, with his trademark duster over of course.

"I was just headed that way, Varric, so I'd be more than pleased to take you up on that offer." She replied lazily. He always put her in a smartass, comical mood.

"And when we get there, drinks are on me."

"At my party? No, Varric. No, drinks are for free tonight."

"A free drink? Andraste's tits…impossible."

"For you, anything is possible." Lyra laughed.

The rest of the way was a short, lively tromp with her favorite dwarven companion. The sky darkened quickly, and revealed lanterns strung about the rooftops of the houses. The Keep itself was decked out with lights and the large doors had been bolted open so that coming and going was easy for all. Inside, a banquet had been set out with all kinds of gourmet specialties Lyra had never seen before, but looked delicious all the same. It was nothing compared to the people, though. Lyra had never seen so many people together…well, not when they weren't fighting, anyhow. Men were scattered everywhere with drinks in their hands, and women were dancing heartily with them. Children ran about, some ducking under the expansive table the food was laid out on, and racing up the staircases. Even the guards on watch looked merry, smiling and accepting a drink or two from citizens, stopping to chat while making the rounds. Lyra briefly wondered where Aveline was tonight, hoping she got some time off to celebrate as well. The Guard Captain deserved a little fun after her contribution to Kirkwall as well as Lyra did, she felt.

"Hawke, I'll meet you over by the kegs of ale in a bit. I see so many fine young women here that Bianca is already simmering with jealousy." With that Varric trudged off and immediately began laying on the charm to the first woman dancing he met. Lyra smiled at him and his wily ways.

She barely had time to glance around more before Bran had spotted her and set upon her like a bird of prey.

"Right this way, Champion, right this way. Yours in the seat of honor tonight." His flamboyant voice commanded her.

He gave her little opportunity to protest. She was ushered through the crowd and led up the stairs to the balcony. Only then could she see that the Viscount's throne was freshly polished that the liveries had been changed. Her sigil was emblazoned where all the old banners of House Dumar used to be. Her jaw lowered slightly and she was led closer to the throne.

"Bran…?"

"Yes, Champion?" He glanced over his shoulder as he led.

"What's going on?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you before? The people practically begged you to be Viscount now. Or rather, Viscountess. I didn't approve before, and I'm still skeptical…but honestly, the people would not stand for anyone else after all that you've done for them."

"It seems I don't have a choice…" Lyra uttered, not entirely pleased.

This wasn't the time or place to discuss this, though. Not at a celebration. She allowed Bran to walk her right up to the throne, and then he grandly gestured at it. She blinked and then took her first step toward it without his lead. The room seemed to hush as people spied the symbolism of what was taking place. She turned and sat down slowly in the throne, and let her arms rest on the sides. It was cold, and definitely made of stone. She crowd soaked in her seat for a moment and then applause broke out. She couldn't help but smile. The people truly did seem happy about this development, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. The celebrating continued at once, even more vigorously than before. Now that the throne had been taken up and a leader chosen, the people seemed to feel safer. More at ease. Lyra watched them all and the smile never faded. These people loved her now. She'd risen up from their lowest to their highest, and they respected her for that. She was someone who could relate to them and had proven she'd defend them, not just another noble who thought blood was the only way to gain power.

Her friends came up to her as the night progressed. Aveline first, wearing her guard armor as usual. Lyra told her she had better celebrate a little before the night was through, and Aveline's response had been that she'd make sure Donnick got that memo. Aveline had seemed pleased that Hawke was now the one calling all the shots. They knew how each other operated, and that was key to keeping Kirkwall safe from hereon out. Discord between Viscount and Guard Captain had been a problem the two of them had remedied in the past, and now it was paying off. Merrill was the next, shy and quiet as usual. Lyra always felt a little bad for the elf girl who was a bit awkward. She hoped Merrill had come with some friends from the Alienage though, and that she'd get some celebrating in of her own. Varric came up more than once and demanded Hawke come down from her newfound pedestal and drink with him, but Bran would not allow it. He said she needed to be seen as stoic for a while longer before she indulged. Varric began slipping her a pint every time he appeared anyhow.

Bethany briefly spoke with her, but said they'd have more time to catch up later at the estate. She then proceeded to mingle with the mages who were in attendance. Fenris was the last one to come, though he seemed more to float over from the side of the room rather than approach from the stairs like everyone else. He half startled her when he appeared at her side bearing a smile very similar to a smirk. She looked over and smiled in return.

"Look at you now, Hawke."

"I know, practically tied down to this blasted throne."

"I can't say I envy you the position, but I doubt there is anyone more qualified to represent these people than yourself." He replied.

"They seem to think so, anyways."

"How long are you in for?" He asked.

Lyra smiled, "I keep asking the warden to let me off early, but alas…"

Fenris looked over and saw Seneschal Bran hardly hesitating to 'indulge' himself as he danced with a tanned tavern girl.

"I don't think he's sober enough to care anymore." Fenris commented.

"Perhaps, you're on to something there…"

Fenris raised one of his dark eyebrows at that. Lyra shrugged and rose. She'd been sitting here for hours now, and had turned Varric away so many times she'd lost count now. She was more than ready to have some fun of her own now. And Fenris was…what was the word? So inviting. They hadn't even really gotten the chance to talk in a while. She'd suffer the consequences for this later. Like tomorrow later. For now, Viscountess duty was over for her.

"I'll be back in a moment. I'm going to shed this bloody armor." She told Fenris.

A few minutes later she was dressed in a pale red dress that draped over one her shoulders and wrapped around her waist, leaving one shoulder bare and her legs free from the knee down. She wasn't really a 'frou-frou' kind of girl, but she had figured the dress for the celebration, and particularly herself, would be formal as a given. Besides, the dress was a welcome change after sitting in that armor for hours. Fenris smiled as she reappeared and held out a hand for her. She took it, noting the lyrium tattoos glowing faintly along his fingers as she did. He usually wore his gloves, so she'd never really noticed before. Well, other than when he was ripping hearts out of chest cavities, but that was beside the point. His hands were warm. She somehow always kind of imagined them being cold, maybe because of the lyrium. They headed down the stairs and people reached out to touch her hand, smiling, happy to see her. She smiled politely back at every one of them, not sure if she was about to be smothered or not. The slightly glowing elf seemed to keep them at bay, though.

Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, Fenris led her right to the feast, which was incidentally where all the drinks were as well. Varric was terrorizing the dancers at this point. It was quite a site to see, the little dwarf all but swerving from left to right, dancing a circle with one girl and then grabbing another and spinning the other way. He'd even unstrapped Bianca and set her against a wall in his stupor. Even Fenris cracked a small chuckle at the sight. Lyra found some of the delicacies on the table and ate them before she hit the drinks, her belly rumbling in approval after she'd tasted the scrumptious Orlesian juices. She'd barely downed a pint before Fenris took the tankard from her hand.

"What?" She asked.

He tilted his head and produced a wine bottle from thin air. Really, it was behind his back, but thin air it might as well have been, because Hawke was as shocked as if it had been. Though, she really should have expected it.

"You know there's nothing like fine wine." Fenris supplied.

"I suppose classy is the way to go at this celebration."

Fenris found a couple of glasses from the table and poured them each a drink. He handed her a glass, but she eyed it a moment before instead reaching for the bottle itself, turning it upright, and taking a nice long swig.

"Well, there is always that way." Fenris smiled.

"Oh, you would know." Lyra grinned.

He shrugged innocently, and downed his glass. He seemed so at ease right now. Lyra had never seen him so…social. She really hadn't even expected him to attend the celebration tonight because of the large crowd. He looked like he was enjoying it though, and she was glad at that. She'd never seen him having a good time, she realized. It was then that Varric finally found her.

"Hawke, my girl! About time you got your sodden behind down here. I was…beginning to think you were a lost cause!" He was smiling, but so far gone he couldn't even stand still. Without warning, he practically fell over, but luckily over was right into Lyra's side.

She laughed as she caught his shoulders, and then pushed him back up. The dwarf then flew into a fit of hysterical laughter. Lyra glanced at Fenris, who was looking highly amused at the entire situation.

"Varric, I think you've outdone yourself tonight…." Lyra ventured, still smiling at his drunkeness.

"What are you talking about Hawke? I have never had so much fun! Well, there was that one time with the half-dressed serving girl-"

"That's more enough, dwarf. Any more and we'll have enough to put out a story or two about you for a change." Fenris reached over and took hold of Varric's shoulders.

Fenris looked at Lyra and said, "I'll take him back to the Hanged Man."

Varric immediately protested, but they ignored him.

"Are you sure?" Lyra asked.

Fenris hesitated, but after a pause asked, "Well, you'll still be here, I assume?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"I'll only be a bit." Fenris replied.

With that, he lugged the dwarf off, Varric none too pleased about it either, and they vanished out the doors of the Keep. Lyra took another swig of the wine and then looked around. There were still plenty of people present, most of them far less than sober by now, though. There were dancers mostly, everyone else had grown tired of that and moved on to more intimate activities in darkened corners. The picture of Aveline walking in on a couple secluded away in her Captain's quarters flashed into focus and Lyra laughed aloud at the thought. She took one more swig and then moved off to the dancers. They welcomed her exuberantly, and the mood of the song playing instantly changed to one more upbeat and festive, a quick and energetic pace. Lyra had never thought of herself as a particularly talented dancer before, but the way the people around her reacted, she might as well have been a professional.

The song changed a few times, going from upbeat to slow as it did, and once or twice a man would slip up next to her and dance as if he were her partner for a few moments. That's pretty much all she'd allow. She wasn't that drunk yet. It was nice though, dancing with the people who had chosen her to be their leader. Some of them she even recognized from various quests she'd taken up years ago. It was so relieving to see them enjoying themselves rather than in some perilous situation or another, looking for help. Every single one of them had earned this celebration tonight, she thought. She finally turned away from the man who had been dancing beside her for the song that had been playing a moment ago. He looked a little abashed, but she just smiled and moved off a few paces. The next song was even quicker, and she was handed a pint by a random woman a short distance away.

After that drink, she was sure her dancing skills decreased even more so, because the room swayed a little even when she tried to slow down. It made her feel light-hearted and giddy, but completely alive. The dancers were still going at it, but all of a sudden, she felt like resting a moment.

"Oh, please don't stop now, I only just got back."

She swerved and spied Fenris smirking very smugly at her, and shrugged, "Sorry to disappoint, but you've missed the show."

"We'll see." He chortled as she walked over, or rather swayed over. "You should come sit for a few moments, Hawke."

"As long as it's not the throne again."

He walked her across the room to a chair beside the banquet and then took one up beside her, leaning back peering at the remaining people. She blinked tiredly, and thought the alcohol was finally getting to her.

"Fenris…"

He looked over, "Yes?"

"I never got the chance to properly thank you. You know, for helping the other day."

"Like I said, it wouldn't have been right of me not to help you after all you've done for me." He replied warmly.

"Still, you didn't have to. I really appreciate it…your support means a great deal to me." Lyra commented, not entirely sure where it was coming from. Oh, wait, it was the alcohol. Right.

Fenris stared her a moment, blinked, and then reached for a drink resting on the table near them and downed it. He glanced back out at the dancers and sighed.

"I guess I just thought you deserved for someone not to let you down." He finally said. She looked at him thoughtfully. "The mage…betraying you…it can't have been easy. It may sound like I'm beating a dead horse here, but most of them will do that."

Lyra started to say something at that, but he dipped his head.

"I say most of them, not all of them, now. Your sister has proven that some of them are capable of resisting whatever temptation blood magic holds for them. She is a strong woman. So are you."

Lyra looked down, flattered. She was glad he was saying what he was though. She was glad he didn't seem to regret defending the mages with her. "Thank you, Fenris."

He smiled at her and looked back at the dancers. The beat had changed yet again; now it was a slower tune. A few couples were out there, moving slowly and holding each other close. Lyra blinked as she saw them, and was surprised when a moment later Fenris had taken her hand and stood up. He gestured toward the dancers with his head.

"A dance?"

She rose, smiling at him, and they moved back across the floor to rejoin the other people. Not surprisingly, when the players saw the Champion return for a slow dance, they decided to keep the tune going longer than they'd planned. At first, Lyra and Fenris moved slowly, her hand still in his as they turned in a very slow circle. Lyra felt them subtly inching closer together as they continued though. The tall elf's chest was so near she could see him breathing. She looked up and met his green eyes, big and trained on her. In a fluid motion, he pulled her closer and wrapped one arm around her waist and kept the other one out, holding her hand. She let her rest on his shoulder and closed her eyes as they circled leisurely.

The lighting in the Keep had changed without her realizing it. The bright and joyful atmosphere was now dim with nightfall, the only light source left being the lanterns. Some of them had even been blown out to make it even darker inside. The effect was serene and amorous, like a candle-lit room only in a grander scale. Fenris felt warm beside her, but her skin still rippled with chill. She could smell his breath, something like a mixture of wine and rain. Not a thunderstorm kind of rain, though, more like the sweet rainfalls that showered down placidly during warm-weathered showers. But mostly wine. He must have had a few more drinks at the Hanged Man before returning. She kind of liked it, she realized. She felt him lean his head into her hair, short and probably sweaty after sitting in the armor earlier. But something stirred. This didn't seem like just a dance all of a sudden.

She pulled her head back a bit, a little frightened. He looked into her eyes with those green orbs, and she wasn't sure what she was feeling. All the alcohol combined with the events of the past days was really throwing her for a loop. She couldn't tell where this rush was coming from, or if it was even real. She noticed Fenris leaning in closer, but didn't register why until his lips had brushed her own. She registered the kiss, the intent, and for the briefest of seconds, she was pleasantly surprised. But then, she was only surprised. So surprised she jerked backwards and away, letting go of his hand, and putting about three feet of distance between them. He looked about as shocked as she felt. The hurt was so visible in his eyes, that she couldn't look any longer. Lyra turned and ran for the exit of the Keep.

She heard the music falter behind her, no doubt entirely confounded at what she had just done. She didn't care though, she had to get out of there. She hadn't meant to hurt him, that hadn't been her intention at all. She had just been…confused. She hadn't been sure what she was feeling, or why, or if it had meant anything. Apparently, it had meant something to him, though. And she'd gone off and given him the impression that she hadn't wanted it. Had she? Blighted alcohol, why had she drunk so much! Her thoughts were so muddled she didn't know anything for sure anymore. She was running, but very clumsily. She had to hold out her hand not to run right into the buildings along the side of Viscount's Way. She heard the sound of feet clattering upon the stones behind her.

"Lyra! Lyra, wait!"

Fenris? He had come after her…maybe she could explain. Or try to. Anything to ease the pain that had flickered across his gaze. She'd seen it in his eyes. She knew it had been there. She turned around, stopping as she did, and panting slightly. Alcohol even debilitated her fitness. Wonderful. He was coming right toward her, with a purpose.

"Fenris…I'm sorry…I…" She started.

He didn't slow down when he got to her though. She couldn't think of the next thing to say because he gripped her shoulders and shoved her back to wall she'd leaned on for support a moment ago. It should have hurt her back, being slammed into stone like that, but it was just a numb sensation. The next thing she knew, Fenris had crushed her lips with his own. He was damn determined to get that kiss, she supposed. With nowhere to run and not enough time to even process her thoughts this time, Lyra's defense was weak. His lips were sweet and cold, and oh so hungry. She kissed back a little at first, but couldn't help but deep her response to his passionate outburst. His breath came out in rushed clouds of steam around her face, making any previous chill from the night breeze vanish. She finally remembered she had hands and found his back, completely free to her without his usual armor on. He was as lean and well-toned as he looked; she felt it in his muscles as she gripped harder at his skin. He moaned something delightful and laid a hand upon her cheek. His hand was still warm, but the glow was bright enough that she could see it through her closed eyes. He released her lips and kissed her neck, nipping lightly, but harder when she whimpered slightly and caressed his back more ardently.

It went on like that only a few minutes, but while it lasted it felt like an eternity. A lifetime of carefree passion and bliss. Lyra had never felt that kind of emotion before in her life, and it was quite overwhelming. Her eyes finally opened as Fenris continued at her neck, and she felt her previous turmoil returning. The spell was somehow broken as soon as it had been cast.

"Fenris…" She whispered.

He took a minute, but eventually ceased and looked up. His pupils were huge in the darkness, hardly leaving space for the ring of green that encircled them. She looked at him a long time before she finally said what she needed to say.

"I can't do this."

The crushed look reappeared instantly, and she hurried to add, "Not right now, anyways. I have to think about…this."

"Of course." Came a throaty response, deep even for Fenris's voice.

He dropped his arms, letting them dangle loosely at his side as she looked around, everywhere but at her, breathing hard. He took a couple disheveled steps backward and then finally he met her gaze.

"My apologies, Hawke."

She wanted to tell him it wasn't anything he'd said, or done, that is was all her. She wanted to say anything so that he didn't look so dejected. But she was afraid to. He turned away and stalked off into the night, the darkness enveloping him like a shadow. She stared at the ground despondently. What the hell had just happened.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I know I have some explaining to do for not updating this in forever, like months again, but I have none. All I can say is that I have been busy with college work and have not felt truly inspired to write anything in a long time. You guys really have my good friend Dizalgah to thank for getting a new chapter at all, seriously – she has inspired me to return to this story. And she is also my beta from now on, because she is awesome. Anywho, enjoy this chapter. **

**/-/-/-/-/**

Sunlight filtered vibrantly through the shades of Lyra's window, beaming right upon her exposed cheek as she slumbered the deep sleep of one who had indulged far too much in the previous night's celebration. Her eyelids shuttered open, flickering meekly at the strength of the unwelcome light beckoning her to rise and begin a new day. She stared blankly at the wall for a few long moments, gathering her thoughts and wondering where she was for a moment. There was an unusual smell wafting through the air, not quite the same aroma that her estate usually emanated. She blinked, confused momentarily, and then lifted her head to look around. Big mistake, the movement immediately made her aware that she had a pounding headache coupled with an intense desire to lean over and relinquish everything she had consumed the previous night. She groaned and stilled, trying to compose herself and avoid making a mess. She took a moment, but eventually she felt like she was strong enough to sit up despite the way it made her vision spin.

She got her bearings, but the thought still struck her that something was odd. She looked around, the stale scent tickling her nose, and chomped her teeth idly. Her mouth tasted vile, she noted as she studied her surrounding. Now wonder it seemed odd, this was not her room at all, and she was nowhere near her estate. Why she was here, though, she had no idea. Slowly, ever so slowly, she helped herself get out of bed and stand up. She felt horrible, and regretted partying the night before now. She wondered how everyone else was fairing against the morning as she walked across the floor of Varric's room. The Hanged Man was usually not a good place to find yourself waking up in…it usually entailed some interesting escapades the night before. For a half a moment, she almost wondered what Varric had done to her, but then she smiled amusedly. He was a gentledwarf, and would not do anything unbecoming. Well, at least not to her anyways.

Thinking of such matters reminded her of what had happened the previous night, though, and suddenly she felt like sitting down again, getting dizzy and unsure of her footing. Fenris had kissed her, but not only that, he had held her and pressed against her, elicited emotions from her that she had never known were possible from a single touch. She put her hands over her face, rubbing hard as she groaned again. What did it mean? What was she going to do? She needed advice, she needed someone to tell her what to do. She had only just ended her relationship with Anders not four days ago; it had to be way too soon to be looking for a new interest. That was called rebounding, was it not? She had heard that was not the best thing to do, especially when it came to the feelings of the other person involved. She would not use anyone to make herself feel better, she told herself. And yet…Fenris had been the one to initiate it all, hadn't he? It was hardly rebounding when he had started it, not she. She was not sure, and that was why she decided she needed help.

Varric was not the most honest source to go to for advice on matters of the heart, but he was the only one in her party she felt particularly close to. They had always known how to make each other laugh, how to pick the other up whenever something distressing had occurred, such as Bartrand's betrayal and her own loss of so many family members; they might never had had a conversation involving love, but Varric had once asked her if she was sure about Anders. So, she knew he cared about her well-being and her heart. He would be the perfect one to go to in order to confide in about this mess, she told herself, not to mention he was conveniently close by and she had just woken up in his bed. When she put it that way, the entire situation sounded very awkward, but she shook her head and stood back up, heading down the stairs and into the main thrall of The Hanged Man.

There were not many people hanging about in the tables and chairs set about the room this early in the morning; in fact most people were probably still recovering from the extensive celebrating from the night before, Lyra mused. She certainly was, she thought dourly. No, the bartender here was going to get a rare day off it seemed to her, he would be lucky to get much business at all today other than from customers such as Varric who happened to live here. She peered around, looking for faces she recognized. Once upon a time, she would have smiled to see Isabela walking about making rude gestures at male denizens, teasing them and bleeding them with her pirate charms; alas, she feared she would not see the pirate queen for a long time to come, and when she did it would most likely not be in a friendly vain. Isabela was slow to trust, but even slower to forgive, from what Lyra had gleamed of her. She still thought she had made the right decision, but she did regret having to lose someone she had considered a friend. Oh well, she thought, nothing could change the past. That was a grim thought indeed.

Varric was perched atop one of the high stools right next to the bar, his head enveloped between his thick arms, down upon the wooden table top in a look of defeat, or perhaps a stupor of weariness. She ambled over to him, swaying slightly as she crossed the floor and even having to grab the back of a chair once, but she made it to him without falling over and that felt like the biggest accomplishment of the morning so far. She plopped down beside the dwarf, thankful to be off her feet again. She understood why people always dreaded hangovers now, it was surely the worst thing she had ever experienced. Far worse the wounds after battles, she scoffed. Varric lifted his head slightly, just enough to roll it over and lay it down against his arm so that he was looking at her. She mimicked his pose and lay her head down facing his, sighing tiredly.

"Care to explain to me why I woke up in your bed, Varric?" She asked meekly, though her sense of humor permeated through the weariness despite her muddled voice.

He smiled softly, his eyes gleaming. "As much I'd love to say it was because you threw yourself through my door and begged me to take you to the moon last night, I'm afraid I can't."

"As if you could reach the moon….you're far too short." She chuckled.

"Hey," He replied, mocking offense, "I can reach the moon. I've been told so far too many times not to believe it."

Hawke raised her brow and laughed softly, enjoying their banter as usual. There was something comforting about just making jokes with her companion, knowing it was all for shits and giggles in the end.

"Ah, good times, Varric." She lifted her head and rested it upon her elbows then, glancing away. "But honestly, I am confused about how I got her."

Varric grumbled, complaining about his headache probably, but eventually he replied, "Well Hawke, you kind of just barged right in."

"Did I?"

"Oh yes, and you told me specifically, 'If you try anything, dwarf, I might have to show you a thing or two myself.' Not quite sure what you meant by that, but there you have it." Varric shrugged, smiling.

"I…" She glanced at him uncertainly, confused. "I did not say that, did I?"

Varric laughed. "Honest to Andraste, you did. But, you were very drunk, so I did not take offense by it at all."

She hung her head feeling embarrassed entirely. "I am so sorry, I don't even remember that at all."

"Probably for the best, you were asking for it. Who knows, maybe a little bit more pushing and I would have had to oblige you." Varric winked mischievously.

Lyra jabbed him in the arm with a half the energy she normally would, but laughed despite it.

"You were sort of upset about something, though. Enough so that you didn't bother returning home before passing out in my bed, of all places." Varric ventured.

She stopped smiling, trying to remember, to grasp what had been running through her mind. Of course she had been upset about the encounter with Fenris, but surely that was not the only reason she came to see Varric, was it? Blighter, being drunk was not good for her. She had no idea how her brain functioned when she was intoxicated, but it made absolutely no sense in the light of day. She sighed, wishing the headache would subside and that she would feel back to her usual self again soon. She looked at Varric again, scowling.

"Do you feel like this all the time? It's wretched."

He laughed, "No, not all the time. Last night was pretty much an overindulgence on everyone's part."

He patted her shoulder soothingly.

"I am never drinking again. Never." Lyra stated dully.

"I have heard that before." Varric replied snidely, "You want to tell me what was the matter now, though?"

She eyed him wearily, making a face at the idea. "It's kind of complicated. I'm not entirely sure what to make of it myself."

"Well, out with it Hawke. Lets get this over with so we can both go back to bed to sleep this sodding thing off." Varric was all ears now, ready to be her friend despite how awful he must feel.

"It's about…Fenris."

He whistled sharply, "Have you finally noticed him?"

Hawke turned sharply, "What do you mean noticed him? I notice him, he's one of my companions and friends."

"That's not what I mean Hawke. You know what I'm talking about – have you finally _noticed _him. The same he notices your behind when you're not looking."

Lyra blushed brightly at that comment, and looked away hurriedly. She had no idea if what Varric was saying had ever happened before. Would she not have noticed the elf staring at her? Or had she truly been that blind, blind or in denial…She wanted to groan again, and lay her head down and just not think, but this was too important. She needed to figure things out.

"Hawke?" Came Varric's voice.

"What do you mean, Varric? What do you mean by Fenris noticing me…you don't think he…"

"Hawke, don't be daft. He's been half in love with you for years now. I can't believe you really had no notion of this." Varric's expression was serious for once, not a trace of evidence that he was pulling her leg was evident, which made Lyra feel even worse.

"No, I…I was kind of distracted by the person I was living with, if you know what I mean." Lyra jibed, feeling sore to have been so ignorant to what was apparently obvious to every one else around.

"I know Blondie and you were close in the beginning, but don't lie about the end there. He was off his rocker and you did not feel the same way anymore." Varric spoke, the voice of reason. "The elf has been making eyes at you since even before Blondie claimed a stake over you, though…I remember the night your mother died."

Lyra angled her face to him again, hating the particular memory, but unsure of what he meant. Fenris had indeed come to visit her after her mother's death, and she had found great comfort in his words; but surely he had just been being a good friend. There had been very small moments she had felt something strange when they locked eyes, but that was it, nothing telling or life changing.

"What about…that night?" She asked quietly.

"Oh come on, Hawke. I saw the way you two looked at each other. Even wrapped up in Blondie's arms, you could not help but look to the elf for…something. And he was not shy in returning that look, by the Maker." Varric sighed, a trace of weariness in his voice again.

Lyra did recall what he meant though, and remembered the way Fenris had stepped forward for just a moment, making like he was going to come over to her and hold her himself, and then stopping himself and striding away. She had wanted it to be him comforting her, even then before Anders had changed. She had never quite admitted that to herself, but it seemed to be true to her now. There had been many moments, now that she thought about it, Varric was right. She had never put all the pieces together before until now, though, and it scared her how accurate the dwarf was. If Fenris had been in love with her this whole time, it would explain a lot, but it was still frightening. She had not known what to do with Anders's love, and now she had someone else's to worry about as well? What was she going to do…

"Yes, I see the wheels working in there, Hawke. You know what I'm talking about. But, what happened last night?" Varric keened closer, peering at her curiously.

"I…he…the celebration."

"Come on, the last thing I remember was him escorting me home so kindly. And of course then you barged in not an hour later disturbing the peace like a lune-" He stopped at a glare from her, but smiled nonetheless.

"It was only a dance. He asked me to dance with him, and I thought why not, it was a celebration after all. I did not he would think it meant he could just…" She faltered, unsure of how to proceed.

Varric sighed, eyeing her annoyed and waiting for her. She bit her lip.

"He kissed me. More than once. Okay?"

Varric grinned, slamming his fist down on the table. "About time, I'll say. I thought he would explode if he did not make a move sooner of later."

Lyra frowned and wanted to tell him that there had hardly been much opportunity for anyone other than Anders to have been making moves on her recently, but before she could she heard the door open and close and footsteps approach – heavy footsteps.

"The Captain of the Guard graces us with her presence!" Varric declared, apparently feeling better all of a sudden. Lyra wondered why, she thought sarcastically.

Aveline took the seat next to Hawke and sighed peacefully, glancing over at the two of them. She smiled at Varric, but took one look at Hawke before she frowned, concerned.

"What's wrong with her?" She addressed Varric.

"The elf kissed her last night." He replied bluntly.

Lyra's head fell back to the table instantly.

"What!?" Aveline gasped indignantly.

"Yes, he declared undying love and graced her with the gift of his passionate lips, holding her in a tender embrace-"

"Enough, Varric. Hawke, is this true?" Aveline was taking none of Varric's usual messing around this morning, it would seem.

She grumbled assent.

"Hawke! I can't believe this…I thought he would never be so bold, especially so soon."

Lyra looked up again. "Why am I surprised that you knew he felt this way too? Why?"

Aveline blinked, "Are you meaning to say that you did not know?"

Lyra shot Varric an annoyed look while he sniggered childishly, trying not to laugh outright at her disdain. "Apparently, everyone really did know but me."

"I should say so! Isabela, the wench, tried to get you off his mind once by slipping into his mansion late one night; she ended up with a burn mark on her wrist and scowl that lasted for days." Aveline mused.

Lyra shuddered. For some reason the idea of Isabela with Fenris made her feel prickly and uncomfortable. The idea of it was not appealing to her at all, and she was sure that if the pirate had succeeded she might just have departed from the party even sooner, because she would not have been able to bear looking at her smug smile a day longer, let alone hear the bragging that would have ensued. She was kind of happy that Fenris had so strongly rejected her, she realized. Gods, she did feel something for him, didn't she? She detested the very idea of him being with someone else, and yet he had had to watch her live with Anders for years and years. It must have been a torment to him, but how could she have known?

"Hawke," Aveline continued, "What happened?"

"They danced beneath the moon and she cast a spell upon them both, lulling them into each other's arms-"

"Varric!"

The dwarf ducked as Aveline reached around behind Lyra and swatted viciously at him, missing narrowly. He had to tip his stool over so far he almost fell off to avoid the fell swoop, but he succeeded and proceeded to burst out laughing. Lyra wore the expression of a very displeased warrior at that point, too sulky to be bothered to shut Varric up. He had gone from serious to nonsensical within moments; it probably had something to do with Aveline showing up, but still. She could use some real advice right about now, rather than jokes and prodding. Aveline was still waiting for an answer, though.

She sighed, "As I told Varric, he asked me to dance with him. And it just sort of happened."

"But then?"

"Then she woke up in my bed." Varric supplied, evoking a very strange look from Aveline.

"That part is true…and I'm not entirely sure why I came here." Lyra admitted, embarrassed all over again.

"Don't tell me you like Varric as well." Aveline declared, waving her hand through the air.

"I'd be flattered, Hawke, but as I've said before, Bianca can not abide by someone else demanding my attention." Varric chuckled.

"I think I was just afraid to be alone with my thoughts." Lyra replied, ignoring their teasing.

"What was there to think about?" Varric chimed, "You either liked it or you didn't."

Aveline glared at him, "That's not true. She just sent the mage away, so she could be feeling very confused right about now."

"You humans over-think everything." Varric commented dismissively, "Blondie had not been himself for the past couple of years, and Hawke hardly acted adoring of him. It wasn't difficult to catch the looks she gave the elf."

Lyra looked at him, her eyes wide. "I gave him looks?"

Varric snorted, "Whenever you assumed no one else was looking. Or did he have something stuck between his teeth?"

Lyra swiveled to look at Aveline desperately, but she only nodded slowly in agreement, smiling apologetically. "Maker…" Lyra uttered.

"Andraste's tits, I haven't seen someone so confused since Aveline couldn't tell Donnick she wanted to jump him all those years ago." Varric snorted.

Aveline put her hand to her temple, sighing, "I am beginning to regret coming here."

"What should I do?" Lyra asked feebly.

"Tie him up and go for a ride." Varric suggested, smiling.

"What do you want to do?" Aveline asked, completely ignoring the dwarf by this point.

Lyra looked down at her hands, trying to think. She was still shocked by the entire idea of Fenris harboring feelings for her. She had always thought Anders had been it for her, that that as close to love as she was meant to get. The idea of anyone else being interested in her as well was strange and foreign. She seemed to be oblivious about emotions in general though, for thinking back, even when Anders had surprised her with his kiss so long ago, she had not realized he had felt so strongly for her. Apparently, he had not been the only one dying to get his lips upon her; she wondered who else had interests in her, at this rate anyone could and she would not be surprised. She took that thought back, it actually would be slightly shocking if the Arishok suddenly appeared and declared devotion and ardor for her and her alone.

She refocused, trying to figure out the answer to Aveline's question. What did she want to do. She had not been expecting for there to be another option when she had told Anders to leave. She had figured she would be alone from then on, back to how things used to be. She had enjoyed having a companion, well, when he hadn't been ranting or controlled by Justice; the point was, she did not necessarily want to be alone again. She was not certain she was ready for such a big commitment so suddenly, but she could not deny the way her body had responded to Fenris last night. She had never felt that with Anders, and she honestly was intrigued by it. There was a lot of raw potential for a good time waiting in the elf's arms, she knew.

"By the Ancestors, Hawke, we all know you like him too." Varric finally interrupted her silent thoughts.

"Varric, there is more to it than just that."

Lyra looked up finally, "I guess it would be interesting."

Silence.

"At a girl, go get him." Varric stated finally.

"Hawke, are you sure? You have just been hurt, and none of us know how prone Fenris is to harming his friends…" Aveline was concerned, she was a good friend. Lyra appreciated that, but she thought she could take it from here.

"I know, Aveline. But, I'm tired of feeling like all I am is someone to be used in order to get power. That's all Anders and Justice needed from me; somehow I don't think Fenris is interested in that." She tried to smile, but she still felt horrible physically despite her newfound confidence in her decision.

Aveline nodded, "If you say so."

"How about a round on me?" Varric asked suddenly, cheerful.

"No." Aveline and Lyra both replied at once.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: It's kind of a miracle that I updated this story so quickly, isn't it? Again, you have my wonderful beta to thank because she keeps me inspired lately. Without her, I'm sure it would be another six months or so before I felt like tackling another chapter, especially one like this. This was interesting to write, I really explored dialogue toward the end, but hopefully it doesn't drag too much. I kind of like a bit of fluff sometimes, so enjoy. **

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Several days later, Lyra had recovered from the blaring hangover and had had plenty of time to work through her warring emotions and thoughts. Chatting with Aveline and Varric had somehow proven to be helpful and enlightening despite the dwarf's wily antics, much to Lyra's benefit. She was still somewhat hesitant to go diving into a whole new commitment only days after having ended the previous one, but perhaps she was over-thinking things. They could take things slowly and take more time to get to know one another than she ever had with Anders; that was, if he still wanted to try. She would not blame Fenris if her reaction to him had hurt his feelings too greatly to want to try again. She had not flat out told him no, she reminded herself, but she had said she was not ready. How could she go from unsure to ready in only a matter of days? She shook her head, telling herself to stop thinking. She just needed to find the elf and have a talk with him, to see what was going on between the two of them without her thoughts clouding up her emotions.

Walking through Hightown, she scanned the crowds for the elf, wondering if he might be out for the day, though she highly doubted it. She was making her way toward the mansion, if she was honest with herself, but skimming just in case. There was no sign of him by the time she reached the sprawling, moody estate. It was as gloomy as ever, dank and dark in comparison to the buildings beside it, but somehow it gave off the feel of Fenris. Everyone knew it was his home, and did not find any offense at the way he chose to keep it. Or, perhaps they were too afraid of him to bother saying anything, Lyra mused. That would be more likely, but she personally had grown fond of the way the mansion was. She strode up to the door and knocked twice, then stepped back to wait for an answer. She looked up at the sky nervously, wondering what she should say and how to begin. Maker, why did she have to get so anxious suddenly, just at the thought of speaking to him after what had happened? Her fears turned out to be unfounded, because there never came an answer. She knocked again, and called out his name, but the result was the same.

He was angry with her, then. Too angry and hurt to even open the door. Her shoulders drooped and she turned around sullenly, looking down at the cobblestone street. She would just have to try again a different time, she thought grimly, but who was to say he'd answer then. She started walking back through town, not really thinking about where she was going. Her mood had dropped intensely as she thought about how selfish she'd been the past week. She had gone the whole time since the celebration thinking only about herself and her own confused feelings, never having once bothered to worry about how the elf was taking it. What if he had completely given up and decided to leave now that there was nothing really holding him here in Kirkwall? That thought depressed her even more as people blurred right past here, unnoticed.

She wandered out into the Wounded Coast, killed a couple of bandits who did not realize who she was, and then took a path down into a little lake area that she had discovered one day on her own. It was a secluded place that was difficult to find, making it the perfect getaway for someone like her, who was usually bombarded by needy people in search of assistance. Not even the thugs and apostates had found this place before, so it was all her own. She smiled as the glittering lake came into view, long-limbed trees draping over it in a serene embrace. The sun was high, reflecting brilliantly off of the water's surface, and casting shaded spots beneath the high treetops. It was the picture of peacefulness in nature, and it was inviting and warm to the eye. It eased some of the pent up emotions Lyra had been fighting off, and she knew at once her feet had led her to the right place for her at this moment in time. She made her way down to the lake's edge and lowered, dipping her hand into the cool water just to feel the way it rolled out of her palm to glide back down into the pool. The sun beamed onto her dark hair, warming her and making her close her eyes, enraptured in how healing being here could be. After a few more minutes, she turned and sat herself down beneath a tree, perching herself up next to the sturdy trunk. Her eyes flickered shut, and then she was out for a nap in the middle of the afternoon in a place that nobody knew about.

She woke again to the sound of rustling, of shifting clothing as someone moved and bended nearby. She blinked groggily at first, but when the realization that it could be trouble reached her, she immediately reached for her scabbard and made ready to draw her blade, trying to hurry to her feet.

"No need, Hawke, it's only me." Came a voice she knew well.

She froze, and looked over toward the water, seeing Fenris crouched beside the bank as he fiddled with something she could not see. She let go of her sword and tried to relax, but she could not help but wonder how he had gotten here. She was still waking up though, and words were slow to form upon her lips.

"Have a nice nap?" He asked, turning his head over his shoulder and gaze at her, his green eyes shimmering in the sunlight.

She nodded, glancing down shyly. "I…was looking for you earlier."

"I know."

She looked up again, confused, and not sure how to respond to that. The elf rose and turned around, revealing that he'd been tying together a net to lower down into the water, probably to try and catch fish with. So, that was how he had been finding fish lately; the market had been short on stock ever since the Right of Annulment had been invoked and the following battle had ensued. That would mean he had known about this place for some time, though, and she had been sure she was the only one. He walked over to her and sat down, no emotion clearly written on his face.

"When I went home, someone told me they had seen you knock and then leave." He elaborated.

She nodded slowly, understanding then, but wondering who that someone had been. She would not have been surprised if Varric had been following her around and had been attempting to 'help' her out. It was very like the dwarf, she figured, but it hardly mattered. She also wondered where Fenris had been before, but the thought slipped out of reach. All that mattered was that Fenris had found out.

"How did you know I was here?" She ventured, still cautious.

He gave her a half smile before replying, "You always come here when you're troubled."

She blinked. "I've never told anyone that, though."

"You did not need to, I have eyes."

She was taken aback, so unaware of how much attention he had paid to her in the past. It could almost be taken the wrong way, the comment he just made, but she rather found it endearing. It implied that he knew her just from minding the way she acted, how she responded to things, and where she went; he had not needed words to gauge her moods. She felt bad for never having taken the time to pay him the same attention.

"Why were you looking for me, Lyra?" He asked, his expression changing to one of ambivalence.

She hastily looked down again, "I…I just needed to apologize."

He said nothing, sitting silently as his gaze lingered, still waiting, almost tangibly hopeful.

"For the other night. I did not intend to hurt you." She added.

He smiled and looked over at the lake then, breathing calmly, "You are too good. I should be the one apologizing, for pushing you when you were obviously not ready yet. I was hasty, and we had both been drinking the wine as if it were water."

Lyra watched him intently as he spoke, and she realized he had been agonizing over this as much as she had. She felt amazed that he would even think it was his fault, when surely the blame was all hers, but nonetheless it encouraged her that he could say those things, and felt compassion for her situation. She did not know what inspired her to do so, but she reached over and grasped his hand. He turned his head quickly, looking first at their touching hands and then fixing his eyes upon her own, a slight glow flickering in his tattoos as he did so.

"Surely, it wasn't…just the wine." She dared, feeling bolder.

His eyes flickered slightly, perhaps weighing his response, "You were so beautiful in that dress." He breathed out.

Lyra's cheeks reddened and she looked down again, but a small smile had grown out from the edges of her lips, spreading over her face in a poorly concealed delight. Her stomach fluttered at his tone, and the way he began to stroke her hand with his thumb. He reached out for her, his other hand dipping under her chin to force her to look at him.

"Of course it was not the wine."

They gazed at each other for a couple of moments, enjoying the small touch and the way they could simply look at each other without a need for words. The moments seemed to stretch out forever, when it was really just a few stolen seconds, but they were meaningful ones all the same. Fenris retracted his other arm then, seeming to want to give her space, and she noted that appreciatively even though she would not have minded it if he not done so.

"I never realized…" She tried to say, but did not know how to finish. Never realized what? How he felt? How she felt?

"I know, though sometimes I felt as if I could not be any more obvious." He replied, shrugging humorously at the end.

"I was blind." She apologized.

"No, Hawke. You were trying to be good to the undeserving mage, not worrying about the foolish notions of someone who could offer you nothing." He frowned.

"I should not have ignored you so, though." Was all she could think of to say.

"You did not ignore me, Hawke. You helped me in ways no one ever has before; because of you Hadriana and Danarius are both gone forever, and I am free."

"You could have done that on your own, though, Fenris."

"You think? I am not so sure. You have a way of knowing what the right path is when I would normally be confused by my hatred." He disagreed, looking seriously at her.

"I think you would have found the right way in time. You would have figured out that hatred only leads to…destruction."

"Then you have more faith in me than I do." He stated bluntly.

"We all need someone to believe in us, for our own sake."

He nodded at that, but sighed and looked over at the lake once again. The sun was not as high in the sky as it had been before, and Lyra figured she must have been snoozing for a couple of hours at least. It was late afternoon, nearing evening, and she had been out here the better part of the day. She had not expected the elf to find her here, nor to be having this conversation, but she was glad it was happening. It was enlightening for the both of them, it would seem.

"You know, Hawke, I tried to leave once."

Lyra's eyes widened at the thought of him feeling like he needed to leave, for any reason. The idea of waking up and heading out into Kirkwall and knowing there was no chance of seeing him one day frightened her to no end. It was made worse when coupled with the idea that is was probably because of her that he had felt like he needed to go, most likely due to her being around Anders all the time, the mage who Fenris despised openly.

"Why? And what made you come back?"

He continued to gaze off at the lake as the sun lowered subtly as the evening grew on, "It was a couple of years ago, before I discovered my sister's whereabouts. I had been thinking about…things, and had realized I was being unrealistic, that it might serve everyone better if I just disappeared and was not an issue any longer." He paused for a moment, unsure. "There was also the thought of how the mage was treating you bothering me. I could not bear to watch it any longer without having to do something, something that I did not think anyone would appreciate. So, I left." There was a sadness in his eyes then, as if he remembered the feeling of when he departed from Kirkwall, the emotions all sweeping back to him in an overwhelming wave of remorse. Lyra wanted to do something, but she did not know how to comfort him, other than to squeeze his hand gently to remind him she was there. He blinked, and continued, "I could not stay away for long. I was only a couple of days down the Wounded Coast when I began to wonder who would be there to look out for you in case the mage lost control. The idea of him hurting you was intolerable, and I would never forgive myself if you came to harm from him while I was away, running away from my own self-pity." He looked at her again, finally, and smiled. "There is something about you, Hawke. It calls to me, sings to my blood, and I simply cannot stay away. Surely, I would find no purpose in any place other than by your side."

Lyra listened quietly, taking in everything he said intently and realizing the depth of his feelings. She had never thought Anders capable of harming her, not physically anyways, but after what he had done, she now knew that she had definitely been in danger's way for some time. She had never realized that before, but somehow it was comforting to know that Fenris had been there standing vigil the entire time, trying to make sure nothing would come of it. Nobody could have known what Anders had been planning, though, she thought darkly.

"I'm very glad you came back." She chimed quietly.

He only looked away with a quaint smile still etched upon his face. She gazed at him fondly, appreciating the angles and chiseled features of his face, how content he seemed to be for once. He was handsome by elf standards, but even in human standards she found him to be quite beautiful. The sunlight brought out the green hues of his eyes, and the lightness of his hair, framing him in a portrait scene of a wanton gaze looking off for some unknown fancy. She leaned over to him and lifted her free hand, raising it to his face. He looked over, startled at first but instantly relaxing as she touched his cheek, gently. She was amazed yet again by how warm he was, despite the cool air that usually followed him around. Looks could be so deceiving, she reminded herself. He sighed into her touch, and she brushed her finger over his lips, remembering the way they had felt pressed against her own, hungry and longing. Her eyes wavered for a second, and they both seemed caught up in a spell.

"Lyra," He breathed, "please, let me kiss you."

He peered at her, waiting, and she could not find her voice in that moment. He did not wait long though, and when she did not say anything in the negative, he leaned into her and softly found her lips with his own. It was not the same way it had been the other night; this was sweet and tender, almost a sort of offering and accepting between the two of them. His breath washed over her, warm and flavored sickly sweet like grapes, and the fluttering in her stomach sped up as she realized she was very much enjoying the way they meshed together. It was somewhere between a chaste kiss and something more, but not too much, not the begging hunger that had consumed him before, though she knew that was probably still residing in him somewhere. She had liked that too, but this was just as nice, for a different reason.

His hands stroked her short hair, so much like his own save for its color, as the slow kiss eventually came to an end, a warm one though. They sat with their foreheads leaning against each other for a few moments, eyes closed and breathing faintly as the light grew dimmer. The enchanting spell still lay around them, weaving magic in the air and whispering of promises yet to come. Lyra felt assured in what she felt for him now, what she had been denying to herself all along and what he had been waiting for. It was funny how one kiss suddenly could put everything back into perspective and clarify what should have been obvious from the beginning. It had taken them over a decade to finally reach this point, when only a kiss would have sufficed to show it to them before.

"I have always hoped for this." Fenris commented softly, almost wistful.

She opened her eyes. "I have as well, I just did not realize it was meant to be with you."

He smiled at her, pleased with the answer.

"I may not be ready for…everything all at once, though." Lyra added cautiously, hoping it would not ruin anything. He had been waiting for years as it was, so he might not be willing to take things too slowly.

But, he nodded fondly, not seeming to be bothered by it. "We have all the time in the world."

She smiled, not sure she deserved for him to be so understanding, but glad of it. "I…liked that." She said shyly, smiling like a little girl.

He grinned in response, the most playful she had ever seen him before, "There is plenty more where that came from."

They laughed for a moment, and then leaned in to enjoy one another once more, getting used to the feel and taste of the other. It was like young people first learning how to act around each other, figuring out who fit each other and how well, only none of the initial awkwardness was lingering between the two of them; it was natural and comfortable, and so much better than Lyra had ever realized it could be. She was sad to stand up and claim that it was time for her to be going back to her estate for the evening. She had some duties she still needed to take care of as Viscount, and she had been neglecting them the entire day. Fenris escorted her home, never releasing her hand as they strode through Lowtown and Hightown, but neither caring who saw.

At her doorway, they stopped and shared yet another kiss before she bid him farewell, and then he was gone, and she was left in her lonely home. Not even Sandal and Bodahn remained in the estate, only the little elfin girl whom Lyra had employed for a few years now. She made her way to her study and sat down, cracking open the account books and eyeing the numbers warily. She tried to focus on them, but somehow her thoughts kept finding their way back to a certain pair of green eyes, and she ended up not getting much work done after all. She was happy though, and for once felt like her future held something bright for her to look forward to again. She smiled the most that evening she had in a very long time, and she hoped it was only going to get better from there on out.


End file.
